In the Magic of Twilight
by Princess of AvalonCrescentMoon
Summary: Duringthe 6noveland7th, breaks cannon abit.An accident in DADA reveals Hermione has a severe illness and when Snape steps in to take care of her he has a realization that horrifies him.He is in love with her! He couldn't save one love, can he save this 1?
1. Chapter 1: The inexplicable lure

Siobhan sighed as she ran a hand through her massive brown curls as she read her daughter's most recent letter. Almost in depth of a novel, Siobhan feared for young Hermione's safety once again. The sixteen-year-old was studying at a secret school with an undisclosed location where she felt the war of a different world getting entirely too close to home. She knew the young girl had felt an obligation to disclose certain details about the wizarding world's war, but was convinced the "reassuring padding" which took up have the letter was all bull-shit.

She told her so in her reply as she demanded her daughter come back home at once.

The crisp azure sky was unspotted by clouds as golden rays steamed through the small openings of the giant oaks branches. The girl watched in simple delight as the branches danced in the light spring breeze. It was relaxing to sit in the peace and quiet, something she had been having much less of as of late.

Hermione Granger laid on her back watching the branches above her dance as she felt the soft grass soothe what skin of hers was bared. Taking in the soothing scent of the wild flowers and grass growing in the small court yard with a deep and long breath, she found an appreciation for the therapeutic qualities nature possessed.

She felt bad, telling her closest friends that she opted out of the weekend in Hogsmade to "study" for the upcoming exams, she had planned to, but instead she found herself with a well-loved book of Tennyson poetry abandoned beside her along with the romance novel she had been so engrossed with just minutes ago. Hermione had read Mort d'Arthur enough times to think she had it memorized, but she felt her heart beating at an accelerated rate whenever she opened the book.

But now the Phantom, the Lady of Shallot and the war waging that affected all those so close to her were set aside in order for her to enjoy the calm dance of the oak branches.

"Are you awake, Miss Granger?" a soft baritone voice asked her, coming from absolutely no where.

Jarred from her serenity the girl glanced up to look at the tall, pale man with a dark expression peering down at her. She snapped into a sitting position, collecting her sentimental books into her lap with in a manner of seconds, adding an icy glare to stare into the recesses of the man's soul.

"I was merely relaxing, sir," she spoke as she adjusted herself once again to stand. "Before I go is there something you wanted of me, Professor?"

Severus looked down at the child who seemed to disapprove of his very presence. It was odd how much this girl disturbed him, her deep brown eyes shooting daggers at him, as if she were preparing to defend herself. He knew why he wasn't welcome by most students, and if she wasn't sleeping then she was pretty lost in thought, looking so serene.

"I was passing by when I saw you laying beneath the tree," he sighed with clear exasperation. "I thought you may have passed out. Clearly my concern was wasted on an ingrate. I'll leave you be, Miss Granger. I do hope I don't come upon you passed out, I'd be inclined to respect your wishes and leave you there."

Severus turned around to walk away from the over-presumptuous girl when her voice called out from behind him, making him turn around.

"I-I didn't know..." the girl looked down as she fiddled with a thin silver bracelet. "Sorry, Professor. I hope I haven't offended you."

Severus folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the girl's newly apologetic face. She seemed sincere enough in her apology that he was willing to let her miserable attitude slide. "Maybe you shouldn't leap to assume I'm here to give you trouble. That'll be five points from Gryffindor. I'm sure your friends would be very pleased."

"I'm sure they will..." she sighed gathering her messenger-style bag from the stone bench on which it sat, shoving her two books into the over-stuffed bag.

"I never said you have to leave, Miss Granger."

"I maybe a little presumptuous while saying this, so bear with me, sir..."

"Me, think you presumptuous?" he said, words dripping with sarcasm.

"It seems odd you would be just passing by a part of the castle barely frequented. The very reason I come here, sir." She slung her bag over her shoulder and looked respectfully in his eyes. "I come here to be alone, I imagine you have as well. I'll be off, sir."

He watched her walk away as her bushy hair swayed with her robes, walking more rapidly than usual while trying to appear as if she was walking away at a normal pace. For whatever reason, it bothered him how uncomfortable this particular annoyance of a student was with him.

_It's probably no more than pity for the damned thing._ He sighed sitting on the stone bench under the tree which Granger once laid. Looking down he found a loose piece of parchment with writing scrawled on it laying precariously in the grass.

He gingerly picked it up, wondering if he should even bother, she probably wouldn't miss it. Despite his typical reserved behaviour, his curiosity got the better of him and he began to read the chicken scratch he knew to be her writing.

_Momma,_

_I'm not going back home just yet. You were fine with me attending in the first place. I don't plan on leaving until I am finished school. Remember how much you insisted I finish school since the time I started? _

_I'm still needed here, and I can't very well sit safe at home while my friends are out here. And for heaven's sake! I am safe here, I promise you, no harm will come to me. Yes, I understand I just told you that I am needed and in several letters I depict the war going on over here, but I merely work on the defensive. I assure you no harm will come to me, Momma._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

_PS don't you DARE call bull-shit on anything I say in my letters, if I say I'm safe, damn it, I'm safe!_

"If only you were..." he sighed as he folded the note and placed it in his robes, and he set out to find Granger.

He found the girl in the library, sitting at one of the tables by the west window, peering studiously over several volumes sprawled out over the table. She chewed on a quill pensively as she pointed her finger to pages on the different books.

Hermione Granger looked so intense as the sun set behind her in the picture window, bathing her in gold, red and orange light, highlighting strands of her riotous hair, and leaving her intense eyes in soft shadow. Something seemed so different, he couldn't tell what though. He stared at her pensively until she took an inopportune moment to look up from her study.

Hermione raised her head when she heard footsteps approaching her, knowing it would be around the time Harry and Ron would return from Hogsmade. But instead she saw the professor who she left hours ago, staring at her, she locked eyes with him, trying to see through his unreadable eyes. Perhaps he was reluctant to bring her bad news...

Little did either of them know what lie ahead for them.


	2. Chapter 2: A Change in Pespective

"Is something wrong, sir?" Hermione asked nervously, terrified something might have happened in Hogsmade.

"No, Miss Granger, you simply dropped this in the courtyard," Severus dropped the folded parchment on to the pile of paper she had reserved for jotting down sloppy notes. "I see you've decided to read the entire library in one sitting."

"Studying for exams, professor," she answered, brown eyes still scanning the open books. "I know they're a few months from now, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start."

Severus nodded knowingly as his eyes scanned the open books, leaning in closer than Hermione's comfort zone typically allowed. She saw a slender alabaster finger point to a tiny green book open to a poem she knew too well.

"In what class are you studying Victorian poetry?" the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a victorious smile.

"I'm allowed to appreciate the classics, professor." She sighed closing the book and putting it back in her bag. "It just so happens that I needed something to break-up the academic texts."

"You must be one of the only people I know who take reading breaks by reading."

Hermione groaned as she rubbed her eyes, "I told Ron and Harry I'd meet them here, there's little to do while waiting in a library than reading."

"I'm not surprised you're waiting for those two," another book caught his eye, a passage about spells that influence emotion, or rather that make a person forget a certain emotion. "A little light reading in ways to influence people's emotions?" his caught another "And that's another memory curse," another one "and that's a high level protection ward placed on a person," and at last "and your sloppy notes are not only these spells and wards, but also ingredients to a potion meant to make a person appear dead to magic sensors."

"I know what I'm reading, professor," she grumbled as she pointed to another book. "And that's merely a book on war ancient war tactics, and that's a romance novel, and that's more poetry."

"You're point being...?"

"It's leisurely reading to prevent boredom, nothing you need concern yourself with professor, you probably have better things to than to stand over me and ask about my reading tastes," with a tired sigh she slipped both her letter and notes into her bag. "Thank you for bringing my letter back to me. I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you to find me."

Severus looked at the aggravated girl as she looked at him with a tired and bored look, a look he no doubt returned. If it wasn't for her troublesome friends he was sure that she would have taken the letter, gave thanks and took off. After somehow fitting the miniature library into her bag of course.

"I assumed you'd be here, if I hadn't found you hear I'd be checking the hospital wing. It's too bad you can't make a living from reading, you'd be very successful." And with a dramatic flourish of his robes he turned away.

"I do more with my life than read, Professor."

"You do little that doesn't make me fear for your safety other than read."

Hermione watched the strange man leave slowly and pause before he was out of eye sight, as if he were going to say something. He must've decided against whatever he had to say because he pressed on. Watching him leave the library she realized there was something about his tone when he told her how most her actions make him fear for her safety. Unlike most times when he made such comments about her "troublesome behaviour" his voice lacked that touch of sarcasm and all-too-condescending tone. He sounded resigned and sincere, with a hint of desperation.

She decided something must have been weighing on his mind, most likely something to do with the order and his part as a double-agent. It must have been so hard to be suspected by both sides, to be a teacher by day, and a spy by night working against the Dark Lord...though a terrifying thought entered her mind every now and then, even though she told her friends otherwise.

He could be a spy for the other side.

An overwhelming pity gripped her heart as she wondered about how lonely and miserable of an existence he had. He wasn't well liked, most the order didn't trust him due to his dark past, and no one quite knew the horrors he saw in his youth as a death eater and now as a spy. Hermione hoped from the bottom of her heart the man could find some happiness.

"Hermione!" Harry called as he rushed over to her with a gangly red head behind him.

"Reading one book at a time not challenging enough for yea?" Ron commented on the covered table.

"Actually, I was reviewing all of this so I can quiz you on it!" she began to laugh after Ron's eyes widened to the size of baseballs. She picked up the thickest book on the table and smiled mischievously. "Shall we begin?"

"How about we get something to eat before you cause Ron to pass out?" Harry suggested green eyes shimmering with amusement while he watched Ron's blue ones narrow at Hermione.

Hermione exchanged looks with both boys and gave a long drawn out sigh. "If you insist..."

Going on tip-toe to reach the top of her tall friend's head she gave him an expression her cat was used to seeing. "Oh, Ron, you're so cute when you're confronted with books."

Rolling his eyes he simply reached his hand out. "At least I don't have to strain myself to give anyone a condescending head-pat." His ruddy lips then formed mischievous grin and his eyes danced in delight as his arms reached out for her waist.

"Don't you dare!" she warned, but before she was past her first syllable she found her feet off the floor, by the last word Ron was lugging her over his left shoulder.

"Ronald Weasley!" she said. "Put me down this instant! Honestly."

"She's right you know," Harry laughed enjoying the spectacle. "What would your Mum say?"

"Oh, come now, Harry," he said as he was about to leave the corridor. "She'd just be glad I managed to sweep a girl off her feet."

"I should take a picture," said Harry. "She'll never believe you otherwise!"

"I hate boys," she sighed as she cradled her head in her hands.

Both boys grinned and sang in unison. "Oh, you know you love us!"

"Unfortunately," She gave a resigned laugh. "Now put me down before Madam Prince sees."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Granger." A stern female voice spoke from the opening between the stacks. Sure enough it was the school's librarian and she did not look pleased. "If you three insist on rough-housing then I'll have to ask you to leave."

"I'll clear off the table and return the books to their shelves and we'll be on our way." Hermione offered.

"Don't bother." Madam Prince scowled.

"We're sorry if we disturbed you." Hermione said as Ron sat her down.

Both boys repeated her apology and the trio left the scene with interlocked arms.

"We still have to get a picture of you carrying Hermione." Harry said as soon as they were a safe distance from the library.

"I'm pretty sure that forcefully throwing a girl over your shoulder doesn't count as sweeping a girl off her feet." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron.

"You love me," Ron winked at her.

"Forgive me if I'm not weak in the knees."

Ron smiled smugly as he threw an arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, 'Mione. Admit it, you've completely fallen for my charms."

"What charms?" Hermione laughed moving his arm. "I'd sooner date Ginny."

"I'm up for that!" Harry laughed. "I want a picture of that too!"

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione gasped. "You're disgusting, Oh, I'll—"

"Oh, I'm sooo afraid of a hundred-five pound girl!" Harry laughed.

"You're going to be!"

And with this Hermione found herself slung over Ron's shoulder once again.

They were nearly to the great hall, Hermione having long given up on her pleas to be put down, and now had moved to insults. "You do know that the last people to just sling women over their shoulders, it was because they were dragging them to their caves, right?"

"If you're getting at a caveman joke you'll have to be more direct than that, Miss Granger."

Hermione recognized the baritone dripping in sarcasm before she turned her head to see him. Sure enough he stood before the three of them with his arms folded across his chest with his perpetually unimpressed expression.

Ron's shoulders tightened under her abdomen, stiffening as her moved his other arm to her waist and gently set her down, looking at her with an awkward expression, she nodded in acknowledgement and agreeing she had no clue how she was supposed to feel about it.

Harry exchanged a look with his friends conveying the same thing. He then looked to Snape and Hermione internally groaned knowing this was going to be a painful conversation. Snape looked over to her quickly, seeming to know what she was thinking.

"Don't look so pleased, Miss Granger," he said "It might make someone think you're happy to see me."

"Can you blame her if she isn't exactly ecstatic?" Harry growled.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter." He looked back to Hermione. "I dare say, I wouldn't be too pleased either if I were in her position."

"I think I can speak on behalf of my own happiness, thank you, Professor." Hermione folded her arms across her chest and subtly moved her way so she was between him and her boys.

"My apologies, I assumed you didn't like being tossed around like a rag doll," Snape looked her up and down as if he were trying to extract something from her by merely looking at her.

Hermione's heart beat rose slightly as he fixed his black eyes on her. For some inexplicable reason, her knees became weak as he encroached on her personal space. A thought came to her mind and she didn't know if it was tantalizing or horrifying, but she didn't want to be thinking it under such close scrutiny, so she discarded the idea and locked eyes with him.

"Are you well?" he asked, breaking the intense gaze and shooting an accusing one to Ron. "You'd better hope she is."

"I'm fine." Hermione said.

"Are you?" Harry was to next to ask, probably noting that she was adjusting from adjusting her weight from foot to foot.

A warm hand clutched above her elbow and tugged on her till she moved back , head hitting Ron's torso. "It's probably because you're leaving her any space to breathe."

Snape sighed after he took one last lingering look at Hermione before striding off dramtically, leaving the trio confused and aggravated. And leaving Hermione stunned.

Severus sat at his desk going over some of the first years' essays, noting that each year the new comers seemed to get worse and worse. He groaned as he set his quill down he left the disappointing essays in favour of a glass of wine and toast.

He drank the blood coloured liquid and selectively nibbled at the toast as he began to think about the letter he had found on the grass after he was talking to Hermione. He couldn't help but think it better if she left, but some part of him also wanted her around. He didn't know why, he found the girl quite annoying and obnoxious.

He cringed inside as he thought about Weasley and Potter tossing her around as though she was some toy. Admittedly he had only seen her slung over Weasley's shoulder, but the three has fooled around like that before, and Granger had looked pale and wan. It was easy to blame her state on the boys. The girl was clearly fragile and such rough-housing was bound to result in injury. He was perfectly justified in chastising them and thought it should have been worse.

He wasn't keeping Potter alive so he could break rules and little girls. The boy played an important role and Dumbledore knew exactly how the chess game would unfold if Potter made the right choices. Much to his surprise, he had been brave, wilful and righteous enough to do the right thing, but this also made him too vulnerable to traps. A point which had been proven the previous spring. Potter's righteous attitude had nearly killed him, his friends and had cost Sirius Black, a nuisance and a comrade his life.

With a sigh Severus finished marking the last essay and decided to call it a night. He had a full schedule of classes to teach the next day, and he could barely stand his students after a full-night's sleep. He was best to get what little sleep he could before trying to teach the little hellions.

Putting out the candles with a silent wave of his wand he adjourned, pushing all thoughts of an anxious or irritating manner away so that he could be graced by what little sleep he could obtain. His time spying on the death eaters for Dumbledore had once made sleep elusive, but mastery of his thoughts cured his insomnia. So the image that appeared to him as he was drifting into sleep had come as a surprise to him.

It was a mental picture of a girl with golden sunlight forming a halo around her soft form. The girl's brown hair had been highlighted by the setting gold sun shining through the window pane and her face had an intense expression of concentration and her brown eyes gleamed with a certain passion and energetic determination.

The image a memory from earlier that day. And the girl was none other than Hermione Granger.


	3. Chapter 3: With the Dawn comes

_Hemione lies flat on her back bathing in the gold and amber sunset. Its rays creating a soft halo around the old oak which she was so fond with, it brings a calm to her as she waits in peaceful silence. She knows not what, but as the amber sky begins to surrender to a soft blue and purple and the golden halo around the tree was highlighted with red she no longer needs to wait alone._

"_Hermione?" Severus sits on the stone bench behind, intense gaze fixed on the twilight._

"_Yes?" she replies with a calm sigh as she tears her eyes from the sunset's beauty._

"_What are you doing?" _

"_Waiting."_

"_For what?"_

"_For the sky to fall..."_

Severus awoke with a jolt. The dream had been surprisingly pleasant, but also disturbing, the resignation in Hermione's voice when she had told him she was waiting for the sky to fall was more than depressing. Someone so wilful and indignant should never have that much resignation in her voice.

A surge of guilt came over the good professor. How often had he wished the spirits of those three would be broken? Even if it was only something he wished upon the three in anger, but he had certainly acted on the wish trying to break them.

_Those three are ingrates and have no respect for others, I was in the right._ He shook the guilt and headed out to watch the sunrise. A compulsion which came over him occasionally, feeling as though watching the dawn could accomplish some abstract goal toward peace.

Severus didn't know what brought him to the small courtyard, possibly a compulsion from his dream, but he couldn't be sure. In the faint blue of the early morning sky stood an ancient oak as old as the castle's foundations, and beneath it was a familiar stone bench just as he'd expected to see. But what he didn't expect was the young girl sitting on the bench looking to the east to see the sunrise above the peaks of the courtyard's enclosure.

Hermione sat on the bench looking out to the east. It wouldn't be long before the dawn, and she hoped with each dawn it'd be more than a new day, but a new era for human kind. She watched the still quiet of the morning, loving the pause before the sky faded from a midnight blue to a faded robin egg.

"Miss Granger?" a voice broke the still quiet, causing Hermione to jump from the bench and look to the direction of the voice. It belonged to none other than Severus Snape.

"Professor?"

"Isn't it a little early for you to be up and about?" he glided across the court yard and took his place on the stone bench. Raising his eyebrow he noted dark blue circles under her eyes. "Or is it late?"

"Early," she answered leaning against the tree. "I just came here to watch the sunrise, sir."

"You couldn't do that through one of your dormitory windows?"

"I could ask the same of you," she said sliding down to sit at the ancient trees base."I come here every morning, and have for the past four years. I haven't been chastised for it once."

"Perhaps you just were never caught?" he asked picking a fallen acorn out of her bushy hair. "You look tired."

"I had trouble sleeping last night," she turned her head to face lightening sky.

"Another late night touring the castle with Potter and Weasley?"

"Try another late night counting the bricks in the ceiling."

"Oh," he nodded, something almost like sympathy sparked in his tortured black eyes. "Has this been going on for a while?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "We all have an occasional sleepless night."

The two left it at that and watched the sunrise in silence. Steaks of red painted the blue sky as orange and pink clouds dotted the sky. The highest part of the sky they could see turned to a vibrant purple that waned to more orange. The orange, pink and red began to wane as a golden-red orb rose above the stone walls peaks and the sky began to turn blue. A crescendo of birds singing greeted the morning, their song was beautiful and hopeful, lifting Hermione's dampened spirits. She leaned her head back to let the first of the sun's golden rays kiss her skin.

Severus watched the girl as she surrendered to tranquility. Any problems from her sleepless night seemed to fade, if only temporarily. In six years of teaching her he had never seen her so at ease. He was glad she could find her peace every now and then. He turned to face the sunrise and thought of his own inner-peace.

He lifted his head to the sun and felt its rays warm his skin. The warmth and light from the early sun sank deep into him, promising a dawn for him as well as the day. After years of suffering the dark and cold, he looked forward to the sun's illumination and warmth. Someday he could be safe, warm and at peace.

"Pmmmrrrrroow."

The sound forced Severus from his trance. Opening his eyes he saw a very large, long-haired ginger cat nudge Hermione's arm. She opened her eyes and smiled down at the cat. "Hey, honey," she kissed the top of the cat's head. "The night has gone and now comes the next chapter with the dawn."


	4. Chapter 4: the accident

"Do you often recite poetry for your cat? I'm quite sure they don't appreciate anything more than food."

"Cats happen to be intelligent and very affectionate creatures," Hermione stood and picked up Crookshanks. "And it just so happens he finds the sound of my voice soothing."

Severus couldn't help but laugh when he heard that. Hermione noted that it was a lighter laugh and his smile seemed more warm than the sadistic one she often saw in the classroom.

"He would be the only one, I assure you." He stood taking one last look at the sun, now fully risen. "You best get your cat back to your dormitory before anyone sees him."

Hermione nodded with a grateful smile. "I will. Thank you, professor."

And with that, the girl and her cat were gone. Severus chose to stay in the courtyard and appreciate solitude among nature before he would have to attend breakfast. He could sit there in the early morning serenity and just think about the sun on his face and wind at his back.

He thought about what Hermione had said about a new chapter with every dawn. It was true, the past was done, but the future was completely his to take. If he lived through his death-eater business he wouldn't be wasting any more time dwelling on his past.

He sighed knowing his resolve to not dwell on his past wouldn't last the morning. It was in his nature to let the negative events of his life linger and fester. It was neither from desire for sympathy or lack of will, he could be as wilful as Potter if he wished. But his past shaped him, it was important to remember the people who were in it.

Like his mother...

"Severus!" Albus Dumbledore stood before him looking rather cheery. "I never pinned you for a sun-bather."

Once again, his meditation was broken by unwanted company. "I'm merely enjoying the quiet and still of the morning, Albus. What brings you here?"

"Looking for a particular morning lark," he smiled. "I believe you spent the last hour with her?"

"Ah, Miss Granger?" he stood up to be eye to eye with his mentor. "She won't be too pleased to know you found her hide out."

"I take it she wasn't pleased when you first stumbled upon her?"

"That girl is rarely pleased with my company," he began to walk toward the open archway. "I'm amazed she stayed when I came."

The old man chuckled. "I'm amazed you didn't leave when she gave no sign of leaving."

"We have equal rights to be in the courtyard, neither of us were leaving on that principal. Do not mistake a peaceful co-existence as some sort of fondness for each other."

"If any of your students is able to have a constructive relationship with you, it'd be Hermione, Severus." Dumbledore walked to the archway followed by Severus.

"Mr. Malfoy and I seem to have a decent student-teacher relationship."

"You spoil the boy because you pity him. I hardly call that grounds for friendship."

Frustration began to boil beneath Severus's skin. He didn't understand Dumbledore's attempt to make him befriend Potter and his gang, as though it would help him or them somehow. Dumbledore knew as well as he did that Draco Malfoy had a hard go at life, a guilt-ridden mother and an evil father don't make great parents. Draco was also his Godson, it was his duty to care for him, along with a hope he would be something more than his father. Severus didn't spoil him, he played the same role to Draco as Dumbledore did for Harry Potter.

"He needs someone just as much as Harry, Albus." He sighed and pointed down the corridor. "She went back to her dormitory."

"I might as well leave Hermione be until after breakfast, possibly after classes. It isn't very urgent."

Severus tried to read those pale blue eyes, hidden by his half-moon spectacles. "What is it?"

"I just want to help her with her insomnia. She needs a bit more than sleeping potions. It's been going on for years."

"Is it really something you should take up? I'm sure a lot of the children need help here," Severus said as he approached the great hall. "You can't just focus on one, if Madam Pomfrey and Slughorn can't help her, then it's anxiety. You can't be playing favourites, nor can you be addressing the anxiety problems of over three-thousand children."

"Than what do you propose, Severus? The girl's been suffering for a long time."

Severus had no clue what he was signing on for, and couldn't explain what made him want to do it, but he blurted out before he could think about what he was saying: "I'll do it."

"That's marvellous, Severus." Dumbledore chuckled. "but you do realize that means you have to engage the girl in an actual conversation."

"I've been a teacher for eighteen years, Albus, I know how to talk to students."

"She might not open up to you right away, remember she might think you're the enemy."

"If I can't help her, I'll hand her over to you."

"I do believe I heard, Severus." Dumbledore said. "That you have problems tossing girls from hand to hand."

Hermione thought back to the strange sunrise. She wondered why she had company other than Crookshanks, and even more, why had it been the likes of Severus Snape?

She pitied the man, his cold, harsh demeanour was a mask covering some serious mistakes and a dark past. He was rarely happy , if ever, and always had some inner turmoil torturing him. She wondered what it must've been like for him, to always be alone. Solitude was something Hermione could sympathise with, but there was something else driving him to shut himself out and prevent any chances of happiness.

Something she recognized from both Harry and her mother...

" Hermione Granger," Ron teased linking his arm on to hers. "We've come to take you away."

"Come with us if you want to live!" Harry laughed taking her other arm.

"Have you two been taking lessons from Fred and George?" she laughed. "Besides if aliens are coming to take me away, it'll be my parents taking me back to Saturn."

Ron looked at her with a raised eyebrow "Not Uranus?"

"For obvious reasons, Ron." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"We have come to take you away though," Harry said seriously. "You've skipped Hogesmade trips all month, and you keep skipping meals."

"I can't remember the last day you came to all three, 'Mione." Ron rested a hand on her shoulder. "We're worried."

"I've been studying, Ron," she sighed freeing herself. "In case you've forgotten I do that alot. I'm nervous about exams."

"That's not the truth and you know it, Hermione!" Harry shouted grabbing her arm. "I'm tired of this, you've been never acted like this months before exams. Why can't you tell us the truth?"

"We're your friends," Ron reminded her taking her other arm. "We want to help you."

Seeing his blue eyes sparkle with concern, and his face full of worry, she looked to see Harry's expression was the same. She decided to fill them in.

Under another ancient oak that stood in the school's main courtyard the trio laid in its shade. The three of them had hung out beneath the old tree since they were first years and continued to find something of comfort under its massive branches.

"I'm thinking about doing something drastic..."she sighed as she looked in both her friends' eyes.

Harry lightly touched her wrist and looked at her, begging the answers. "We're here for you, Hermione. Is there anything we can do?"

"Are you thinking..." Ron started and quickly threw his arms around her as his voice shook. "Please don't leave us, we'll..."

Hermione returned the hug and tried to sound assuring as she felt tears well up in her eyes. "I could never do that! You hear me, Ron Weasley, I won't leave you two that way. I'm so so sorry I made you think that."

Hermione held Ron as he finished crying and the two wiped eachother's eyes. Harry came in for a group hug and brought down the lightened mood. "If that's not what's wrong then..what is?"

Hermione drew out a long breath as she looked to Ron and Harry and wondered how to tell them. "I've been having problems lately, mostly just thinking about my mother..."

"What about your Mum?" Harry asked.

"She's seen war before...and I—I can't have her be a victim in another. I'm thinking about..." she took in another breath and prepared herself to finally say it out loud. "I'm thinking of altering her memories...my dad's too."

"What?" Harry asked shocked. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know, Harry. All I know is they're visiting my aunt and uncle in Belfast and this summer, and that's when I wanna do it. Possibly make them go to Canada or America...I—I just would rather never see them again then see them dead," Hermione dried her eyes as she took out a picture of her mother, father, uncle and aunt. It was taken at their graduation at Oxford. The four looked so happy, it had been a favourite of hers. Along with the picture from when her mother was sixteen with her uncle and one of her best friends. The boys were in plain white shirts and had peace signs on each cheek, one orange, one green. Her mother had a circle of daisies on her head and wore a white sundress, the three of them held a green, orange and white sign that read:_ Change For Peace_.

"Despite what this picture looks like, my mother was more than a beatnik, she actually got shot once...I can't have my family be hurt by this war..."

"I understand," Harry through a supportive arm around her and looked at her with certainty. "If my parents were alive I would probably do the same. Hell, I thought if it was possible I'd do the same. I wish you talked to us sooner."

"Yeah, Hermione, why didn't you?" Ron asked, voice still sympathetic, though demanding. "We, we were just so worried, we thought..." he took another deep breath. "We thought you were going to do something worse."

"I'm sorry," she felt tears fill her eyes again and she threw her arms around Ron and Harry. "If I knew you were thinking that I would have told you."

The three spent the morning under the oak talking about everything that could be talked of, from complaining about class, to music (all three of them differed dramatically, and Ron knew little muggle music so this particular topic was short-lived), to novels, to remembering high-jynx they have committed over the past few years.

"Wizarding radios should play muggle music. I can't believe you two don't know who Bob Marley was!" Hermione laughed as she looked at her friends' quizzical faces. "He was huge back in his day! Like Jim Croce—" (more blank expressions) "The Beatles?" she asked hoping they at least knew who they were.

"Even I know about the Beatles, Hermione!" Ron laughed. "They're good, a tad out-dated."

"I wonder if you've listened to anything past 1978." Harry laughed as no doubt hippy-stereotypes flew through his head.

"I'll listen to a post '78 song if you read _something_ by Chaucer." Hermione rolled her eyes with humour. "It doesn't even have to be one of the one I've read!"

"You realize if that's the case we can _say_ we read it and not do it because you can't quiz us on it." Ron pointed out.

"I think you guys would enjoy some of his work. There's wizards, priestesses, magic, swords, kings, knights, mythical beasts, dragons..."

"So, it's just like Hogwarts?" Harry asked as he ruffled her hair.

"You two haven't a romantic bone in your body!"

"I think I may have to sweep her off her feet again, Harry," Ron smiled mischievously as he reached for Hermione.

After being tickled into submission he carried her much like a husband carries his wife over the threshold. Hermione rolled her eyes and put her arms around his neck and said with a poor southern accent "My hero,"

"Stay like that, I brought the camera this time!" Harry laughed and moved out from under the tree. "I'm sending this to Mrs. Weasley, so make it good!"

"Let me slip my ring onto my left hand," Hermione laughed. "This way Ron can finally beat Fred and George for April Fool's, and they quit hassling me."

"That's bloody brilliant! Almost wants to make me actually marry you."

"Invite Lavender to the wedding and I'll go through with the ceremony!"

The picture was of Ron carrying Hermione and her hold up her left hand, both of their faces ecstatic, looking quite convincing. The next was of their noses touching while still in the same position.

"We probably should get to class...we've already missed all morning," Hermione sighed standing up.

Harry and Ron groaned simultaneously, stretching slowly into upright positions. The boys yawned and dragged their feet behind her, loosing much of their enthusiasm that they had had just seconds before. Though Hermione wasn't found of their feelings toward school when she first came to Hogwarts, the groans and muttered curses grew to amuse her.

Listening to Harry and Ron complain about the heaps of homework and how little they were looking forward to DADA as they walked through the stone corridors gave Hermione a sense of normalcy she clung to like a life line.

"The key to effective defence is to not let your opponent know your next move," Severus said as he walked to the front of the classroom. "But how do we do this when you announce ever spell you cast?"

Hermione's hand lazily snaked upwards lazily against her better judgement. She knew her hand would merely stay there, and the blood would run down it in vain. She wondered why she felt the need to raise her hand every time she knew the answer to a question. Others could answer occasionally, she wondered if anyone could today.

Her brown eyes scanned the room, and she noted she was the only one, once again, to raise her hand. For the first time, she acted on the knowledge and put down her hand. There was no need to have her hand in the air for five minutes just to be ignored, she wasn't holding out hope he was going to acknowledge her, and she was far from needing the attention, or wanting it.

"Did a single one of you do the reading?" he groaned leaning against the desk as he nursed the bridge of your nose. "I at least expect you to know, Miss Granger?"

"Silent spells," she sighed. "It's possible to avoid your opponent knowing your next move by silently casting."

"If you knew why didn't you have your hand up?"

Feeling his black eyes on her, her blood began to boil and her muscles squirmed uncomfortably. She just wanted his intent gaze broken. "I did, I put it down. Why are you calling on me when my hand's down?"

"My methods are not for you to question, little girl." His eyes narrowed as he growled.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but knew it would be useless. She'd let it pass knowing next time to just leave her hand up or claim she didn't know. She pondered on which was worse as the class passed, him ignoring her, or his unwanted attention.

She quickly got her answer when Neville made a mistake...

The two paired up to cast one of three charms (all of which were harmless) and the other partner countered. It was a simple task and most groups were doing well, and for a while they were too. When Hermione was casting...

"You idiot!" Severus exclaimed gesturing to the girl's unconscious body. "What the hell did you do, Longbottom?"

Neville wrung his hands nervously, his body was shaking and, tears were barely held behind the dark-haired boy's eyes. Whatever this boy had done, it was the last mess-up he would have in his class. "Years of making me duck behind desks because you can't make a potion without screwing up! Years of being scorned because I'm not patient enough to coddle you like an infant! All you've ever managed to do over the past six years is fuck up! I don't know if it's because you're careless, lazy or if you're honestly just that stupid!"

The boy gasped and tears sprang from his blue eyes, he looked Hermione for a moment. It relieved Severus to see he was more concerned about the girl lying on the stone floor than afraid of him. But it still disgusted him that this boy was crying when his friend was lying unconscious because of him.

"Get the hell out of my classroom." Severus turned to check Hermione's pulse. To his surprise her skin was cold, and to his horror her pulse was almost imperceptible it was so cold.

Sure enough in an instant, a defiant boy with concerned green eyes was standing over her, with his red-headed sidekick towering over him. Both boys were evidently concerned. Ron Weasley was about to dive for the girl when he saw the dark expression on Severus's face. He was amazed he could be glad for Potter's presence when he stopped Weasley from diving on the girl.

"Is she going to be okay?" the lanky boy asked, not tearing his eyes from the girl.

"I don't know, Weasley. I'll get her to the hospital, and we'll—" a cold hand clenched his wrist tightly and began shaking. Hermione's eyes flew open and she gasping.

"I'm fine..." she forced her head up, Severus placed his hand under her neck. "Just cold...and tired..."

"You're going to the hospital wing," he said with a certain finality.

"We can take her from here, Professor." Harry said reaching for her.

"I believe you have a class to go to, Mr. Potter," he sighed lifting the girl.

"I'd rather go with them, sir..." every word seemed to be a battle to pass her lips.

Severus looked at her, her skin seemed bleached and her lips were a deep purple. He carefully handed her over to Ron.

"_How many years can some people exist before they can be free?"_ Hermione murmured as her eyes drifted closed.

"I'd hurry, if I were you two, her mind's fading..."


	5. Chapter 5: Resurfacing and Realizations

"You don't want to be here..." Hermione gasped as air finally came back to her.

The man leaning on the wall by her headboard and stared at her with an unimpressed expression spoke flatly. "If I wanted to leave, I would have."

Silence over took the young girl and her teacher. She could only stand those black eyes on her so long. She wondered why he was just standing there, looming over her like a vulture waiting for a wounded rodent to keel over. It was long before she closed her eyes and pretended to be a sleep.

"What exactly is wrong with her?" she heard Severus's voice ask as Madam Promfrey laid a hand on her forehead.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me several times to not tell anyone what's ailing the students if I don't have to. Ask her when she wakes."

Another long silence passed in the hospital wing. She could barely hear his breathing, and wondered if he had left. But she learned to recognize the footsteps of most of the Order, and had never once heard him leave.

It nearly shocked her enough to open her eyes when she felt someone move a thick strand of hair out of her face. This wasn't something anyone had done for her since her she had shared a room with her older sister. Not only was the kind act shocking, but it seemed strange who was doing it.

"How is she?" Harry's voice asked walking up to her bedside, accompanied by three other people.

She felt a hand clasp around hers, it felt like Ron's. Her guess was confirmed when she heard him speak. "I'm sure she's fine. Her skin's always so cold..."

"At least her lips and nails are pink, now," Luna's voice sang happily.

"Yes," sighed Severus, "her breathing's improved over the past few hours."

"How did you know what she looked like when the spell hit her, Luna?" Neville asked, voice still solemn with guilt.

Hermione took this as the cue to open her eyes, it was obvious her friends would leave before he did.

She didn't like the sad eyes staring at her, Neville's face was still tear stained, Harry and Ron both looked like they've already worried themselves to their graves, Ginny gave her the best "I'm hiding the fact I'm worried smile" that every mother and sister knew so well. But Luna simply seemed happy it was over with. For once Hermione was grateful for Luna Lovegood's presence.

"You guys!" she exclaimed when she saw Luna holding a thing of balloons. "I'll be out in a manner of minutes. That really wasn't necessary." She extended her free hand to Neville's. "But I'm so glad you guys were here to see me. I hate hospitals."

"I'm so sorry..." Neville bit his lips, as if he were about to cry.

"About what?" Hermione wrapped her arms around her and gave him a stern "it-never-happened" look.

"How's your chest, 'Mione?" Luna asked tying the balloons to the foot of the bed.

"Chest?" Hermione asked innocently. "About as fine as the rest of me..."

"You were helping me pick apples for the house elves and you fell to your knees clutching your chest and gasping—"

"I had a cold! I—I don't handle them well..." Hermione panicked at Luna revealing a clue unknowingly.

"I'll leave you to your friends, Miss Granger," Severus closed a small green book. "I'll be back after they leave."

"I'll probably leave very soon, once she sees I'm awa—"

"Madam Pomfrey wants you to stay the night." He sighed, giving her a tired look. "I'll be on escape artist duty. You might as well get comfortable."

After a dramatic exit the room grew lighter, the air was less tense and relief was palpable on all her friends' faces. But the lightened mood could only last so long once they all remembered what Luna said. Ginny crawled in the bed beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, blue eyes searching for some sign of what she was talking about.

"That's a nice rock on your finger," Luna spoke quickly after seeing Hermione's expression.

"Wanna be a bridesmaid?" she joked. "I imagine Ron has two, so I probably should."

"_Ron!"_Ginny cackled wide-eyed. "You never told me you were going out! I'm your sister! And you, missy..."she sighed, throwing her arms around her. "When's the date?"

"Sometime before the baby's born..." Hermione mused starry-eyed. "So much for a white wedding..."

The five of them stayed with her until they were enviably kicked out, talking about everything under the sun. Leaving her chest and her family alone, the friends complained and laughed, at some point Hermione even helped Ron with a school question that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. That normalcy helped her forget where she was and who she would be spending the night with.

Hermione sat up in her bed reading well-loved Lurlene McDaniel novel, _For Better, For Worse, Forever _. The main character, April was a graduate with a terminal illness, a brain tumour and she was beyond the help of medical science. Hermione's heart went out to her, but also went out to Brandon...a tortured soul who loses two people he loves more than anything, his mother to suicide, and April to the cancer.

"That is the third book you've read by that author tonight, Miss Granger." Severus observed putting down his own reading. "What's the appeal? It seems like there's little to it."

"It's the simplicity that makes it so wonderful." She replied, not taking her eyes off her book. "This woman writes about the most momentous moments of a person's life and does it well without making it more than it is. Her characters are realistic and likeable, and it's easy to forget that this is a work of fiction."

"Seems like a bit of a contrast to someone who reads Arthurian tales," he mused staring at the reading girl. "You seem to have a lot to say about it."

Hermione laughed as she finally put her book down. "If I didn't have an opinion either way, it wouldn't be worth my time reading once. My sister and I have read this book countless times."

"Sister?" he asked sounding more interested than intended. He had always assumed she was an only child when no one with her last name was enrolled in the school. Though, he did know one muggle-born witch with a muggle sibling, so it may not have been all that uncommon.

"Three years older, athletic, graceful, pretty, healthy, intelligent, nice; the Mary-sue of the real world," she groaned rolling her eyes.

"Sounding a little resentful there, Granger," Severus observed.

"We have our problems with each other, but we have a better relationship than most sisters our age...at least better than ones I know of."

"And you're able to have a good relationship despite the resentment?" he scoffed in disbelief.

Hermione laughed lightly rolling her eyes once more. "You don't have any siblings do you?"

The corners of his lips turned up into a small smirk and a light danced in his once hollow eyes. "Is it that obvious?"

Hermione held her fingers together with a miniscule amount of space between them. "Just a tad, sir."

Severus laughed pleasantly at her joke and his eyes locked with hers for a moment, an unfamiliar mix of feelings swept over her as she watched his eyes glisten, he slowly raised his hand, but quickly broke eye contact and ran his hand through his hair.

"Perhaps you should try to sleep..."

"Perhaps..." she agreed awkwardly putting the book on her lap on the side table and lying down in the bed. "Goodnight, sir."

_This must be a rarity,_ Severus thought watching Hermione sleep. Her breathing was slow and shallow, her lips were blue at the edges. He noticed the same with her fingers and her bare feet sticking out of the covers. He remembered Lovegood's comment about her colouring and it occurred to them that her colouring had been like that for as long as he'd known her. It seemed strange why it would occur to him now. It must've before because he noted when he first saw her this year how healthy she looked.

He cursed himself silently for the way he felt when their eyes locked. Even if she wasn't a child, she was still the worst person for him to start developing feelings for. She was an active member of the Order, Potter's best friend, and with him pretending to be a death eater her lineage would make it dangerous for both of them. Worst of all she reminded him of his mother...

While he was reminding himself about her glaring flaws he heard her gasp.

"Please..." she murmured. "Not him...take me instead!"

She clenched her fists tight into her blankets and her breathing became harder, her body writhed as if she were in incredible pain. She kept repeating her pleas in a frantic voice. He saw she was working harder for each breath and her face drenched in sweat and tears.

Without thinking he grabbed her shoulders and shouted her name until her tear-filled eyes flew open and she took in several deep breaths, as if the air were heavier. Her pale hand weakly clutched her breast as she hissed in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked trying to establish eye-contact. "Can you speak?"

"My chest..." she managed through cries.

"Calm down," he spoke, not sure whether he was telling her or himself. He let go of her shoulders in favour of lightly holding her face by her cheeks. "Look at me, concentrate on what I'm saying."

Hermione gave him a frantic nod as her hands flew out to her sides and gripped the mattress under her with urgency.

"Can you breathe?"

She nodded.

"Is it your heart?"

Another nod.

Severus had to act quickly, Pomfrey wasn't in the damn wing. He silently swore that if anything happened to the girl it'd be her fault.

He took her hand and placed it over his heart, with his other hand he placed her right hand over her own heart. He hoped it would work, but he had to do something. He managed almost too easily for his liking to become completely numb and shut out any feelings that would betray his heart-rate.

"I want you to try and match your heart beating to mine. Do you understand?"

With another nod, Hermione closed her eyes, within moments her breathing was less rapid and gasps became calm, deep breaths, her muscles loosened, as did the pressure she put on his chest. Her face, still drenched, relaxed and she stopped shaking. At last her heart-beat matched his.

"Are you alright?" he asked placing a hand on her cold forehead.

"I am now," she replied weakly. "Thank-you."

Her brown eyes shone with sincerity and gratefulness, or perhaps it was the tears still in her eyes. But she looked at him too much like a new disciple to a messiah...or perhaps just like a girl who was grateful to be alive.

He decided that he much preferred her annoyed expressions to the sympathetic glances she always seemed to shoot at him or this uncomfortably grateful expression. Her being annoyed was amusing, even cute. But almost any other expression now seemed to remind him of his growing affections for the girl. Even now he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked moving dampened tendrils out of her face. He then gripped her chin and looked for any evidence he may find on her face.

Hermione's eyes fluttered as though she was struggling to keep them open. She shook her head weakly, her braced arms began to shake and went limp. Just before she fell back, Severus broke her fall, fulfilling his wish to have his arms around her. Even if it was only to ease her back into bed.

He watched her sleep as he played with the idea of her as something more than a pesky student. For all her glaring flaws, she had a desirable trait to out-weigh it. She was nosy, but when she was, it was to extend some sympathy or help someone. She was a know-it-all, probably her biggest flaw, but she always tried to make her knowledge useful. His musing was cut-off when madam Pomfrey ran into the room.

"Where the hell were you?"he hissed at the finally present medi-witch.

"Making an office call." She grumbled putting her stethoscope to Hermione's chest. "I came as soon as the alarm went off. Thank God you were here though."

"She could have died," he spat, looking back to the sleeping girl. "What the hell is wrong with her?"

"You really need to ask her yourself."

"All of her teachers ,_including myself_ , are just as responsible for her health as you are."

"All I can tell you is that the girl has a medical condition that needs to be monitored more closely. She doesn't seem to care to take any of the precautions she needs to."

Severus sighed looking at Hermione as he wondered what it was. "I assume the girl was keeping it a secret...Can't imagine why."

"I think you know why. You won't wring hints out of me by asking the right questions, Professor." Pomfrey said accusingly.

"If something happens to her," he began coolly, restraining all urges to hit something. "And I find out something could have been done had I known, her blood is on your hands."

The mediwitch looked insulted, her mouth hung open slightly and her eyes widened for a moment. She lifted her finger as though she were about to wag it in his face while scolding him. But before she could get a word out, Hermione slowly rose and put her feet to the floor.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snapped at the girl who continued to walk down the wing without acknowledging him.

She approached the door with an uncharacteristically graceful walk, her arms extended outward slightly at her sides and her head remained perfectly level. There was no downward glance or folding of her arms across her chest, or even her slightly slumped posture that was indicative of her gait. It was as though she were someone else...

By the time he broke from his observations the girl was Pomfrey looked at the end of the corridor in horror, as though she had never dealt with it before. After cursing himself for not acting in time he gathered himself and shot the horrified witch beside orders to check the level they were on, but not to stray too far incase she returned.

"You're absence has caused more than enough problems, you might as well be where you can be of some use." He snarled walking away at a quickened pace.

Severus knew the main spots Hermione frequented when she was herself and hoped that they'd be the same now. His mind was racing through a million thoughts, what would he say when he found her? Why was she acting so strange? And the thought he tried to push from his head, what if he didn't find her?

The library was empty. He didn't find her rummaging through the stacks, or huddled somewhere in a corner with a stack of books beside her. He silently cursed at how fruitless his search was, the great hall had been just as empty, the large oak that marked the edge of the school grounds stood over no one, classrooms were empty, she lingered around none of the passage ways, even the paintings were clueless as to her location.

As he was leaving the library he cast a look over to the table she sat at that day, reading intensely while the setting sun in the window behind her cast a golden nimbus around her body. But now it was empty, and the window behind it only cast the pale blue that painted the sky before sunrise.

_Sunrise..._

He ran out the door suddenly, he knew exactly where she'd be. He hurried down the maze of corridors he'd been so familiar with since boyhood, mind racing even faster than his body, which was moving at a pace only urgency could bring to him. He wasn't sure why he was so positive of her whereabouts, but she had to be there...his mind couldn't afford to doubt it.

He arrived to the stone archway leading into that small courtyard they'd met in the previous morning winded and relieved. Sure enough, she was there, sitting on the ground with her legs folded behind her, one hand resting on her ankles, one supporting her weight, her eyes were fixed on the fading stars. He admired her for a moment, watching her sit among the grass and closed flowers. She seemed so different, her upturned face was serene, stars swirling in her brown eyes, she'd slung her hair over one shoulder, the mass of curls completely hid whatever grass it touched and her pale skin no longer seemed sickly, but attractive. Even the fact the she was in a white night-gown added to the innocence and beauty of the picture.

It was then he realized that he thought Hermione Granger was beautiful.

A dangerous thought he decided. It would just make the feelings he was wrestling with even harder.

"I always seem to find you here," he sighed walking toward her.

No response.

An icy grip clutched his heart, could she be possessed? She wasn't ever so childish as to ignore someone speaking to her directly. He also noted that her arms and feet were bare, with only thin ribbons covering her shoulders. Most people with their wits about them wouldn't be out this early on a march morning without something to keep them warm. Hermione was naive and annoying, but she was practical enough to prevent herself from becoming ill.

He briefly wondered if the illness Pomfrey had referred to was affecting her brain. That would explain her odd behaviour and the insomnia Dumbledore mentioned. But as much as it pained him to admit it, it upset him greatly a brilliant mind like hers could just be taken away by an illness it seemed neither magic or medicine could quell.

He bent down and rested a hand on her shoulder. He became more solemn when he realized how cold her skin was, it was as if she were laying in the dew for hours. Crouching down so he could be at eye level he spoke:

"You'll make yourself sick if you stay here."

Much to his surprise, she actually said something. "Sometimes you have to get worse before you get better. Life has a way of balancing the two out."

That phrase struck a chord in him that had been long since buried. He remembered hearing it often from a long lost friend, who had been closer to him than he'd ever been to anyone. Indeed it seemed when they came into hard times in their childhood, that phrase was sure to escape his friend's lips. Hearing the saying again stirred emotions inside him that haven't surfaced in over fifteen years.

The girl seemed to break from her trance, any countenance leaving her, she looked around briefly, and moved her gaze to him. She blinked several times and stared at him expectantly.

"I haven't anymore answers than you do, Granger."

The shivering girl looked dejected as he helped her off the dewy ground, a sigh of a laugh escaped a weak smile. "Who does these days?"

"So defeated already?" asked Severus unfastening the clasps of his cloak. "I'd expect a Gryffindor to at least make it till the sun's fully risen."

"You've done so much for me these past few hours," she stated rubbing her arms and shoulders, her eyes down-turned and closed. "I'm not entirely sure I know how to thank you."

"I believe you just did." He fastened the cloak around her shoulders. "You need it more than I do," he added after she shot a confused look at him.

"Th—"

"Why don't we get you back to the hospital wing?" Severus asked putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders guiding her out of the cold.


	6. Chapter 6: I saw a bird

Hermione walked down the corridors unsure of how she felt. One minute she was in a hospital bed, the next she was being awakened by her DADA professor in a court yard on the other side of the castle. She thought briefly about how good she felt with his arm draped over her shoulders, holding her tightly to his side. She quickly shut the idea out of her mind. She had a love for solving things, for helping people...both of these loves seemed to combine in the same body as the intense and wounded Severus Snape.

Hermione held back the tears as she reminded herself she would never be able to find love. She wouldn't live long enough for it to be fair for whoever would become her lover. All Hermione could ever hope for is to live long enough to see peace in the Wizarding world. Her short life would then have meaning.

"Is something wrong?" Severus asked staring unwanted probes into her.

"Just lost in thought I guess..." she sighed looking at her blue hands.

Another moment of silence passed between the two as they walked down the empty corridors. The silence was almost as uncomfortable as his eyes on her. He looked at her with an undecipherable expression he normally wore, but his eyes betrayed that he was attempting to diagnose her. It was the same cold clinical stare she had to put up with since she was five years old. It made her cringe.

"You're sure you're fine?"

"Just cold," she replied quickly sticking her purple foot out of the massive cloak. "I have poor circulation so I take hours to warm up."

"Someone with your problems should cover herself better in the early spring...What if I had never found you?"

Hermione looked upon his face to see the cold, clinical look in his eyes surrendered to one of concern. She briefly wondered if she preferred the detached expression he normally gave her. She worried about him more than she liked to admit, but she couldn't handle him growing attached. Though, since she'd be graduated when her four years were up, she didn't expect her death to greatly affect her teacher.

She wondered a moment if Neville—or any of her friends for that matter—would have received the same treatment she was getting. He often seemed milder with her than he was with most students, or maybe it seemed that way because most the insults he hurled her way weren't screeched at her. The thought made her think of the things he'd said to Neville while she was unable to move. She bit her lip as she thought of ways she could blame the mishap on herself or perhaps explain he was unreasonable.

"Are you awake?" he asked moments later, shaking her shoulders gently.

"I'm pretty sure I am," she sighed turning her head toward him. A mistake which leant her once again to be under his scrutiny.

He held her chin firmly with one hand as the other held her up by her back. He drew his face close to hers as he examined her, once again with his eyes cold and clinical. She wondered if it was her pallor, purpling lips or the dark circles that she had without a doubt looming under her eyes. She tried to come up with witty come backs for each possible thing, but couldn't with his face so close to hers.

"Your bottom lip is bleeding," he observed. "What possessed you to just shred it?"

A yowl followed by a low scoff came from an unwanted observer in brown robes with a cat in one arm, a lantern in another. The sneering spectator was none other than Filch. A snide man who looked to kill any joy students may feel and invade any privacy students and teachers were entitled to.

"What are we up to now?" he stared them down with an accusing glare.

"_Granger and I_ were heading to the hospital wing, you needn't bother with us." He threw an angry glare at the caretaker and Hermione felt a hand grip her arm above the elbow tightly.

"I'd be careful if I were you. People might think something when they see you with a female student in the in the small hours. Tell me she's wearing something under your cloak"

With shaking hands Hermione opened the cloak, revealing not only that she was clothed, but also blue skinned. Looking down, she realized the neck of her gown was low enough to reveal the very top of her scar. She shuddered to think either of them or any of her friends might have seen it. She closed the cloak after it registered in his face she was blue. "He found me..."

"If you're finished insulting someone who can barely stand, I would like to get to the hospital wing before she keels over."

"Of course, professor."

The two walked past him, Severus's death grip still clutching her arm. She wondered who the accusation offended more when he stopped and turned to face the awful man. "And by the way, Mr. Filch," his voice was barbed with a cool stinging tone his students were more than familiar with. "Next time you feel so inclined as to comment how poorly someone is doing their job, you should think about your own outstanding job performance."

"Excuse me?" Filch spat offended.

"Well, one has to ask how well you keep students from roaming the corridors when you can't keep one sick little girl from stumbling around in her sleep? How do you expect to handle the ones that are conscious?"he asked coldly with a cruel smile on his lips.

"In case you've forgotten," Filch began. "My job here is to clean. I'm a caretaker, Professor. Not a baby-sitter. I think you have a very good handle on this one anyway."

"Accuse me again, I dare you!" the man spoke through gritted teeth and his grip now hurt the arm Hermione thought was numb. "I—"

"My mother told me once," Hermione said before he had the chance to explode. "That boys never grow-up. After watching you cling to your disgusting accusations like a wounded child, I think I believe her now."

"So your pet speaks."

"You mis—"

Suddenly the death grip on her arm loosened and was replaced by a light rubbing. "You know," he began his cool tone returning. "I believe Granger got sick a while back, I can't remember quite where. You wouldn't mind getting it, would you? After all, your job here is to clean."

Filch swore under his breath and walked away with an angered pace. After the man was out of sight the two began again on their trek to the hospital wing. After a moment of silence passed between the two, Severus was the first to break the silence.

"You should have told me I was hurting your arm. Is it alright?"

"I won't know till feeling returns to it."

He turned his head to her, his black eyes filled with concern and guilt. He drew her closer to him as if the warmth of his body could return feeling to her numb body, he also began to rub the spot he'd clenched more vigorously as if urging the blood to circulate.

"It was the cold. I don't know how long I was sitting in the wet grass. I can't feel anything really..."

"It's a wonder you can string together a coherent thought if that's the case." His eyes were once again prying, but he seemed trepidatious about his skepticism. "Don't bite your lip. I imagine you need any blood in your body at the moment."

"You do know that blood replenishes so long as too much isn't lost. It takes less than 24 hours in a healthy person."

"Know-it-all," he groaned.

"I'm not going to be offended by something I've been hearing since I was five, professor."

"What a shame." He mocked. "I suppose there's no wheeming off that annoying habit is there, then?"

"Afraid not, sir," she sighed rolling her eyes. "I imagine if I were to have children they would be just the same."

"I imagine the Weasley DNA will dilute it."

If she wasn't relying on him for balance she would have said something to chew him out for being so goddamned presumptuous! Why did he think he could just say it so casually? As though assuming he knew everything about her past, present , future and every thought was acceptable. That's what she hated so much about Trelawny, and even Ron sometimes...People who don't know her shouldn't act like they know the deep psychology that lies under her every quirk. "With all due respect, I'm not sure if you know Ron and I well enough to say things like that, Professor Snape."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please don't pretend you didn't hear me..." she looked at him trying to decipher his expression. To her amazement he didn't look angry, so she continued. "And the Weasleys are brilliant people. They just happen to be modest as well."

After a few moments of silence while she waited his reply he spoke: "If you're body's so numb I need to know you're awake. Keep speaking I won't have you going into shock."

"Never imagined _you'd_ ever tell me to keep speaking," she laughed as she thanked the heavens for the change of subject. "I wonder how long Mr. Filch will be looking for the imaginary vomit? I feel bad about that I find the idea of him scrambling around for it amusing."

For several minutes Hermione prattled on about a multitude of things. Severus found himself amused by most of her anecdotes, they were mostly about her childhood, playing with her sister, or her sister teaching her something. He was beginning to get an idea of how her sister influenced her, but he found himself greatly moved by one.

"Believe or not, I wasn't the healthiest kid. So, my parents were over protective, and I mean didn't know anyone other than my relatives till I was eleven. Well, my relatives and my mother's pastor...my mother turns to religion when she doesn't have answers, and since I was born, she had more questions than answers. I suppose that's how most parents feel...but I guess they feel that their case is special, and really, every parent with a sick kid is..." she drew out a long sigh as she looked ahead of her, her eyes fixed on nothing as if she were in a trance. "When I was a baby I was in such poor health that my parents were terrified to ever let me play outside as a kid. I never knew what it was like to meet new kids in the park, or just play in the backyard. Phoebe would come home for supper and tell me about all sorts of adventures she'd had outside, or new people she met, and all I ever had to tell her about were story books I've read about things I wish I could do. I remember one day I was watching her play with my father out our bedroom window, throwing a ball back and forth. I've never even touched a ball, never felt the sun on my skin, or the breeze or the grass on my feet, or even played with either of my parents. Don't think they weren't present in my life, they read to me. " Hermione drew in another breath and continued her story, still entranced.

"I was watching Phoebe do all of these things I've never done, and realized I had only ever left our bedroom to have supper or go to see yet another doctor who said he would fix me. Fix me..." her voice began to shake with emotion as any colour she'd regained drained. "That's all they ever talked about. Fix Hermione, make Hermione healthy, make Hermione normal, make Hermione like Phoebe...I wished they knew I had been listening, but when you're under the age of five hearing it—I just layed there, pretending to sleep in the hospital bed as they talked to the doctors. Phoebe always told me they just wanted me to be healthy. She was so good to me when I was little and all I ever was to her was jealous! Watching her out the window playing with my father I was jealous...I even hated her for a moment. I even told her that, and she didn't react like an eight-year-old girl normally would. She took me by the hand and told me she would sneak me outside. She took me to the meadow close to our house sometime after midnight... She had a hell of a time getting me to climb down the lattice and ivy, I was so terrified of heights, but I managed to get down in one peice with my sanity. The grass was damp and cool beneath my barefeet, but also soft, it was the best feeling. The breeze was warm and I still say the smell of the pine, damp grass and night air was the best thing I ever smelt. It was so invigorating, everything was so green and lush, the stars twinkled over head like diamonds in the black velvety sky, shapes and people started appearing out of them, I thought they were spinning around, but in truth I was. I spun, ran, skipped and jumped, playing with my sister like a normal kid. But I didn't get a feeling of normalcy. It was extraordinary, magical even. I remember thinking the moon was following Phoebe, and she told me it was following me, I never understood why..." A wistful smile came across her purple lips. "She saw how taken I was by the stars, because I kept stopping to look at them. So we laid down and looked up at the stars as she showed me the constellations and told me the story of the stars. I was so amazed by the stories and the stars, they were so beautiful it was heart-breaking. There aren't enough words in the English language to explain how they made me felt. For that one moment life was more than what I could see out my window, more than story books and bible passages Momma read to me, outside the poetry I read, or the songs Dad sang...For that one moment my world wasn't limited by my illness."

"Is that why you never told anyone at Hogwarts about your illness?" Severus asked as he helped Hermione into the hospital bed.

"I never told anyone about my illness because I'm better," she spoke as if it were the most logical thing on the planet. "I'm healthy now, Professor, there's no need to ever bring up the fact I was ever sick. I could completely forget I was ever sick now."

After watching her try to make her bloodless hands un-hook the clasps of his cloak he unfastened the cloak for her. "It's been over an hour and you still can't muster enough dexterity to unfasten a simple clasp. You don't seem very healthy."

"I have slower circulation than some people, but I'm not sick."

He sighed as he took one of her hands. "Still bluish white, and very cold to the touch." He pulled out his wand and held her small cold hand firmly. He wouldn't look at her face as he warmed each hand with a spell. He paused a moment when he saw the medic-alert bracelet on her wrist. "For someone who maintains she's healthy, it seems odd you'd broadcast the fact you're ill on your wrist."

"If I hadn't promised my mother I wouldn't, I'd have taken it off long ago," she sighed pulling her hand back. "And I'm not ill."

"You're pale despite your love of basking in the sun, you have extremely poor circulation to the point your nails and lips are often blue and your skin is cold to the touch, and you have been seen multiple so damn defensive doesn't help your case either."

"You shouldn't press her, Severus," Pomfrey fixed the covers and placed a hand on her forehead. "You're improving. I want to give you something to help you sleep, you're warm enough I'm not worried about shock."

"If I fall asleep I'll run off again..." Hermione sighed. "I can just read till you discharge me."

"I won't discharge you if you don't sleep."

Hermione sighed with a dejected look as she folded her arms across her chest. It seemed being discharged meant enough to her to chance going through all of that. He wondered how long Hermione had deprived herself of sleep to avoid sleep walking. It became quite obvious to him that she was afraid to sleep. He wished he could stop it for her, or at least convince to stop sabotaging her health by such childish behaviour.

Without thinking he took her hand in his. "You're not going anywhere, Granger."

"I'm not interested in empty promises, Professor," she looked at him with an exhausted look, and an abandoned look. She didn't clearly didn't expect him to help her, and it seemed she had given up on any hope he'd had to offer in a manner of minutes. Was this the same girl who shared one of her most intimate secrets with him just moments earlier?

"You'll find I don't make empty promises," he spoke, the cold authoritive tone he took with most his students never left his voice. "If I say something to you, Granger, promise or threat, I mean it."

With a resignated sigh her hand went limp in his hand and she bowed her head. "I better not wake up in Hogsmade." She then looked up to Pomfrey. "I'll do it."

"When did you get so well-versed in black mail?" Severus asked Pomfrey as she handed a brew to Hermione.

"I just know the ones who will do anything to be discharged well, and she's one of them."

"Most people don't like hospitals," Hermione interjected defensively. "I volunteered at a hospital, the only ones pleased to be there were the new mothers. It's perfectly reasonable for me to not want to be here."

"I think someone in as poor health as you should get used to being here," said Pomfrey.

"I'm healthy."

"Which one of us are you lying to?" Severus asked. "The only one interested in believing that is you."

"There's no convincing you of anything is there?" her hands shook with the mug as she rolled her eyes. "I wonder why I try..."

"As do I."

That was the last the two spoke. Soon the potion took hold and sleep came over her as she was once again lost deeply in thought, her head bowed and a tendril wrapped around her finger and placed in her mouth, she twirled it with her finger as she nibbled on it absently. Now that she slept he took the hair out of her mouth and moved her hand to meet the other over her belly. He clasped his own hand gently around where her hands met. He hoped that when she separated her hands to get up he'd feel it and get her back into bed before she wondered off.

_Hermione stands under the great oak with her eyes fixed at the sky watching a yellow bird flying in the red sky. He sings a beautiful song that breaks her heart... he flies higher and higher, her heart is filled with both joy and fear for the songbird._

_His tiny canary wings flap faster and faster, he's going to make it, he's going to get where he's going she knows he'll be alright if he gets there. Until it happens..._

_A sickening snap echoes through the darkening sky and his song becomes panicked cries and pleas. The frightened bird flaps furiously with no avail...he is going to die!_

_With tear filled eyes she runs to where she thinks he may fall, hoping to save him, praying she will. But when she gets there a dead canary sits at her feet._

_The scene melts to a playground, she's a nine-year-old girl sitting on the swings talking to her best friend, a small black haired, black eyed boy who was trying to comfort her after she and her sister had a fight. Anger boiled inside her when he uttered the words "she's only a muggle."_

_Severus sees Hermione bent over something as she cradles it. He was walking past when he heard the sound of her crying, he wishes he could comfort the girl kneeling in the grass. Resting a hand on her shoulder he catches a glimpse of the thing she's cradling. A dead canary._

"_Your tears won't bring him back, Hermione."_

"_Someone needs to mourn him..." her gaze never left the little bird's dead, black eyes._

_A realization comes over him as he stares into the cold eyes, they begin to cloud over covering the windows to his soul. A cold cloud nothing will ever break though, hiding any part of him that was once tender and sweet. His song was cut short and he would never fly again._

_He realizes Hermione's head is bent in prayer as she weeps. He wraps his arms around the praying girl and whispers. "Don't waste your prayers...He was dead before you were born."_

"_That doesn't matter..."_


	7. Chapter 7: Scars

Hermione awoke aching for the canary and angry at the small boy featured in her dream. The anger faded when she thought of the little bird, she wondered why she'd loved him so much. It was just a bird. No, he was a special songbird, he was hers...somehow, she felt she was supposed to help him fly. Yet she watched his wings break and then the plummet that killed him.

She shuddered as she remembered him dying in her hands. Along with the shudder was a light tug on her clasped hands. She looked to her side and saw Severus taking his hand back to rub his eyes, the other hand still cradled his face. He put his hands down, folding his arms across his chest as he examined her.

"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that." She stuck her thumbnail in her teeth as she looked away from the prying expression.

"And how exactly am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm some broken thing and you're trying to sus out exactly how to fix me..." her voice trailed off as she realized all he had done for her. As much as that cold clinical look disturbed her, she couldn't say he deserved the grief after last night. "I'm sorry," she groaned burying her face in her hands. "I shouldn't be speaking to you like that. After last night I really—"

"If you really want to express gratitude for last night you'd stop bringing it up."

His voice sounded irritated as he asked her to forget about all the kind things he had done for her only a few hours ago. She turned to face him to see if his face was as angry as his voice sounded, but to her surprise his face was neither angry or indifferent. But a resigned pleading flickered in his eyes, as though she had just revealed a nasty secret and he realized he was helpless to her. "Yes, sir."

In a blink of an eye his all emotion in his face drained and his cool, indifferent demeanour took over. Any anger that was in his voice before drained as he spoke with a tired voice: "If you are wondering why, it's because I don't want you harassing me trying to repay the favour."

"Of course," she nodded.

The two sat in silence for a while waiting for Pomfrey to come to them and say she was good to go. Severus pretended to read a book while he watched Hermione write in a small green book. The quill she used met her teeth a few times as she chewed on it pensively. After a long pause she opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but she wrapped a tendril of hair around her finger and placed it in her mouth as a silencer.

"You won't be discharged this morning if you begin coughing up hairballs, Granger..." he warned.

Hermione removed the hair from her mouth and replaced it with the quill she had been writing with.

"Ink poisoning," he observed. "Much better, that should extend your stay a while."

Taking the quill out of her mouth she placed it in her book. "Don't you have a class to teach?"

"It's barely sevenAM, Miss Granger."

"I thought it'd be much later..." she thought about the time that passed as she nibbled on her fingernails.

"Do you realize that's a disgusting habit?" Severus kept himself from shouting as he slammed his book shut. "I'll tie your hands together if you don't stop it!"

She clasped her hands together in her lap and looked down a sound passed her lips but whatever she was going to say she must've decided against as she now gnawed on her lip. She adjusted her position to sitting cross-legged on the bed and played with whatever manner of object she could fiddle with (be it sheets, the book in her lap, her jewelry etc.). It was a manner of seconds before his blood began to boil. Everytime he'd asked her to stop biting something, something else found its way to her mouth. He didn't know if that was part of her absent-minded habit or if she was spiting him.

He took her face by the chin and turned it to face him. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw her eyes widen in surprise at the violence of him just grabbing her face. Ashamed he let go and said what he had planned to in a calmer tone. "If this disgusting habit is a way to keep from saying things, I can guarantee you that I will be less offended by what you have to say than this."

"I was just going to tell you I've been doing this for as long as I can remember, but I figured it'd do no good."

"Why should it?" he asked standing up. "Life long habits harder to break people of, Granger. You shouldn't get any lenience from it. If anything I should be harder on you about it."

"It never seemed to bother you before now," her tired eyes showed him she was as annoyed with him as he was with her. He wondered when the connection they shared turned to tired tones and glances. "Why does it all of a sudden bother you?"

"It's easier to ignore when you're surrounded by students with worse habits," he now leant over the foot board, tapping his nails impatiently. "The girl chewing her hair stands out less when she sits between two defiant boys passing notes or beside a boy who can;t do anything right."

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast him an exhausted look with a drawn out sigh. "I don't suppose you'll ever stop insulting us?"

"Don't expect it anytime soon," he replied flatly, feeling his blood boil. "How do you see with your eyes rolled back half your life?"

"It becomes second nature. I see how angry you are, so this is going to fall onto deaf ears..." she paused and bit her lip in thought. She spoke: "Respect is mutual, Professor. A very wise woman once told me that you only get out what you put in."

"I'm tired of you quoting your mother and sister, Granger!" he seethed. "With all your short comings, I have to admit you are intelligent...so why can't you think for yourself?"

"I was quoting my Grandmother. And my choice in believing them is me thinking for myself."

Before another awkward silence had a chance to pass Pomfrey came out to check on Hermione and see if she was able to be discharged. "I over-slept, I hope I didn't keep you two waiting."

"Of course not," Severussaid shortly. "The two of us were having a grand-old time, weren;t we, Granger?"

"Oodles and oodles," she said sarcastically.

"I'm amazed you're both still alive," the nurse scoffed examining Hermione. "You should be good to go. Just avoid voluntarily being hit by hexes and charms that affect heart-rate, potions too."

"That should be easy enough," she agreed eagerly nearly jumping out of the bed, her face paled as her feet on the floor. Swaying she sat back down, after a few deep breaths, she stood again, this time more carefully.

"You're sure she's good to go?"

"I'm fine," Hermione all but snapped at him. If this was some new way of tormenting her she wished he'd forget it, and if it were some new found concern for her, she wished he'd stop.

"I believe I asked Madam Pomfrey," he seethed.

"She's fine," Pomfrey sighed. "She should know better than to get up that quickly."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes she grabbed her bag and shoved her book in it and capped her ink, placing it in the bag as well before slinging it over her shoulders. "I forgot for a moment." She turned to both of them and said while she could still be sincere. "Thank you both for looking after me."

Hermione was barley down the corridor before she heard Snape's voice calling out to her, she turned to see him drawing close.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You were in such a hurry to leave we were wondering if you knew you weren't dressed?"

Hermione looked down at the white night dress she was still wearing and felt a wave of embarrassment come over her. She dug out a blue jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her for Christmas and put it on a top the gown. "There's a bathroom not too far from here. I'll just change there."

"Miss Granger?" he asked walking alongside her.

"Yes?" she replied cautiously. He could be leading in to a detention, or extra homework. That or worse, he could tell her he saw the scar...

His eyes and face were as cool and indifferent as ever, but his hand touching his chin betrayed a pensive man. "I wonder... what was it you were going to say before your hair found its way to your mouth?"

"I don't normally do that to prevent myself from talking, professor," she crossed her arms and did her best to keep her lip out of her mouth.

"I suppose you're just teething then?"

"I tend to chew on things when I'm deep in thought. I tend to think more clearly I suppose..." Hermione bent her head as she bit her lip. "It certainly helps me recall things."

"But you did reconsider saying something, weren't you?"

"It was just a question I already know the answer to," she sighed as she looked at the ceiling, the floor, anything but the man walking beside her. "The answer I knew and the answer I wanted were different. I knew you wouldn't have the answer I want."

A hand moved the hair that was blocking her face behind her ear, making her look curiously at the hand's owner. In all her years at Hogwarts Snape had not touched her once, but that seemed to change in the last 24 hours that all seemed to change.

"Try me," his voice and smirk presenting a challenge he seemed to think she'd lose.

Hermione played with the silver chain around her neck as she thought about how to put it. Now Severus Snape was not a man who needed or wanted to hear the easy or delicate way of wording things, but she wanted to avoid another out-burst...

"Don't chew on your necklace, Granger." He said firmly, reaching behind her neck, unclasping it and taking the thin chain. "You'll get it back when I stop catching you with things in your mouth that don't belong there. Now, I believe you had a question."

She gnawed thoughtfully on her bottom lip a moment. "I heard everything you said to Neville while I was-er- down..."

"You unable to move?" he asked anger surfacing in his voice like water about to boil. "I'm not going to refuse to answer your question, Miss Granger, but if this is going where I think it is...which I think we both know it is. I would sooner you skip the rhetorics and get to the point. I'm not a young man, nor am I getting any younger."

"Oh, you're not that old."

"I will be by time you;ve finished asking your question."

Hermione sighed as she looked the towering unimpressed man in the eye. "Do you think you're too harsh with some of your students?"

A flash of anger lit up his eyes and was gone with a wash of sympathy within seconds, followed by an exhausted pity she knew entirely too well. She wondered if she imagined half the emotions that registered in his face when he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "If you're talking about the way I reacted when Longbottom _knocked you unconscious_, I think it was more than warranted. For all I knew you could have been seriously harmed and until I'm convinced your attack last night was unrelated I'm going off the assumption you were."

"But I'm fine—"

"You might not have been," He sighed looking at her with concern as his grip tightened slightly on her shoulder. "I'm not sure if you realize just how serious this is, Miss Granger. What would've happened to you if I didn;t see the attack? You could have _died_...Do you understand that?" his dark eyes now pleaded for understanding as he now rested his palm lightly on her cheek. "You're not protecting anyone by pretending not to. If something had happened to you..." his voice trailed off and his eyes bore into hers.

"I understand your concern, Professor," she said moving his hand off her face while trying to remain sympathetic. "But making Neville feel more guilty doesn't do anyone any good. It was a horrible accident, and believe me, the entire visit yesterday I could tell he felt just awful—"

"As he should have..." he nodded folding his arms over his chest. "He could have killed you. I think you were far too quick to forgive the boy."

"It wasn't entirely his fault..." Hermione sighed diverting her gaze to the ground as her muscles tensed. "I—"

"I'm not interested in you hearing about how my presence making the boy too nervous to function relieves him of the blame. It's an excuse that gets old. The rest of you seem to fair well, so don't blame the boy's incompetence on me."

"It's my fault," Hermione sighed tension leaving her body as she admitted it.

"Now you're beginning to sound like a battered wife, Granger..." Snape sighed with an irritated ring to his voice. "How, pray tell, would his mistake be your fault?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but was cut off.

"Did you tell him what to do?"

"No, but—"

"Did you possess the boy?"

"No, sir, but—"

"Were you holding the wand?"

"No..."

"Did you cast the spell on yourself?"

"N—"

"Did you in anyway influence the boy's actions?"

"You're being—"

"Did you?" he snapped impatiently and began tapping his foot as he stared at her.

"No, but if you'd listen to me for a moment and let me explain—" Hermione began speaking a mile-a-minute.

"If you didn't influence him at all then how the hell is it possible for it to be your fault?" he growled taking a step toward her, making her feel cornered. "I want you to think about that for a moment."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she tapped her lip nervously, lip taping quickly became nail-biting. She took the hand away from her mouth when she saw him reach for it and finally spoke. "I'm better than I was, but I'll never be the healthiest person, Professor. The doctors did what they could, but my body can't handle what most people can. If I had been a healthy person it would have merely knocked me back and make my blood pressure lower. My blood pressure's already too low, so Neville's _mistake_ did too much to me. He didn't know I have a medical condition."

"If I had assigned spells that were supposed to affect your body that way it would be your fault." Snape nodded in agreement as he kept pace with her. "You've failed to inform both Mister Longbottom and myself of a medical disorder knowing the seriousness of the consequences. I need to know these things, Miss Granger. I won't stand for my students endangering themselves. If something happens to you because you're too ashamed to tell anyone about your illness, you'll be the only one responsible."

Hermione nodded as she played with her ring, twisting it around her finger in an attempt to keep from chewing her hair. "I understand that. That's why I really think you shouldn't hold Neville responsible for the incident. I chose not to tell anyone."

Snape looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "Do your medical problems affect your hearing at all, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shot a quizzical look to the man as she thought about the implication that hid behind his words. "No, sir."

"Well, I believe I said that would only apply if I had assigned spells that affect your medical disorder. If the only thing wrong with you is your blood pressure, then I didn't. Leaving Longbottom to blame."

"But—"

Snape rolled his eyes and groaned as he now held her by the crook of her arm, and turned her around to face him. "If I had knocked down someone with osteoporosis and broke all of her bones, I would be responsible whether or not I knew about her disorder. Can you tell me why this isn't the case with Longbottom?"

Hermione bit her lip and stared down at her feet. She searched for excuses but she couldn't muster anything with those dark eyes staring into her, a stolen glance told her the expression was disturbingly probing, and his hand gripping her arm was enough to disturb her concentration. She knew he was ready to tear at any excuse she could muster.

"Is he just so stupid he can;t learn?" Snape asked tilting her chin upwards slightly so their eyes met, and she couldn't avert her gaze with such ease. "Because that's the only thing that would excuse the boy."

"You know I don't believe that, and neither do you."

A gentler expression took over his face, but the intense gaze forever lingered. "And that is why I hold him responsible for what he did to you."

"He's a good kid, Professor," she told him.

"So are you," his voice rang with sincerity, taking her a back. "I just wish you would stop sabotaging yourself."

"Sabotaging myself?"

"You'd refuse to believe me if I told you," he took his hand back and his arms returned to their natural position of folded over his chest. "Even if you did the behaviour wouldn't stop..."

"Try me."

"Alright," he agreed with a curt nod. "You refuse help when you need it, no matter how dire the situation. How long have you been depriving yourself of sleep because of your sleepwalking? Or should I even mention the fact that you won't tell anyone that you're seriously ill?" his eyes begged for an answer as his fingers found their way to her chin once more. "Are you so damn proud that you're willing to let this disease take hold instead of asking for help?"

Hermione's hands shook with anger as she turned her face away only to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "How many times am I going to have to tell you I'm better?"

He looked at her mournfully, resignation took his voice as he spoke: "You actually believe that, don;t you?"

"I know I am." She said determined.

"I don't know how that can be when I know you're not."

"This isn't going to be easy to say..." she sighed. "But.."

"Get on with it, Granger!" he snapped impatiently.

Hermione looked dead ahead, eyes fixed on nothing as she took a deep breath. "For thirteen years people have been using my illness as an excuse to strip me of my independence..." she turned her gaze to the indifferent face that examined hers. "I won't let you do that. Words can't express how grateful I am for what you did last night, but I don't need you."

With that she turned away from him to the bathroom that they had finally come to. In the girls' toilets Hermione found refuge from the ever-present spector of Severus Snape and his battery of questions about the illness.

_It doesn;t matter!_ Hermione chastised herself taking her robes out of her bag. As far as she was concerned she was cured. She survived the disease, all she had to do was live what was left of her life the best way she could.

Which meant coming clean of her prognosis eventually, she knew that. No, she couldn't have Harry and Ron rallying together for her when they had more important matters to attend to. The peace effort had to come first, no matter what. And she couldn't stand her best friends—or anyone—treating her differently. Four years from now Hermione would slip into obscurity and die alone, leaving her friends with fond memories, and letters explaining how much she loved them all.

Casting off the night gown, Hermione got a glimpse of her naked reflection. She looked at the ghost of a girl with disdain. Her stomach lurched as she looked at her now wiry figure, her bones hadn't quite resembled that of an anorexic's, but her bones were still too pronounced. Knees and elbows protruded, ankles were withered and fragile, her stomach was flat without any sign of muscle tone, ribs could be counted with the lightest of a touch, and chalky pale skin became tight and of course was cold.

The girl before her illness's comeback had curves, ruddy lips, pink fingernails and something that couldn't be seen. Hermione sadly touched her small breasts, remembering that they were once fuller. Everything seemed fuller before it came back. Tears stung her eyes as she traced a long scar between her breasts, stretching from shortly below her collar bone to seventh rib. It was still red against her chalky skin, despite being months old. It glared at her in the mirror, making her cringe as she stared at her reflection, only noticing the scar. It was the only evidence of what the cancer took from her.

She always told herself the cancer could take her health, but she'd be fine, that the treatments could take away her hair, her weight, her energy and destroy her body trying to get rid of this, but she thought she would have been fine. She wasn't fine.

Hermione felt a wave of shame come over her as she looked at the pathetic shadow of a woman in the mirror. Here she stood, cancer-free, and for good, but all she could do was cry in front of the mirror because the doctors took more than they had planned. Because of the thing that made her so upset, she was better, so why couldn't she just be happy?

Hermione sighed as she finally finished dressing herself, covering the damned scar Hermione decided four years was too short to be spent moping over what the cancer took from her. It didn't take her life, she had that to be thankful for. The cancer she was cured of wouldn't take anything else from her!

_There's no cure for cancer, Hermione,_ she reminded herself, not sure if the voice in her head was hers or her mothers. _You thought you were cured before..._

Shaking the thought from her mind she left the toilets determined to not let the thought surface again.

Severus kept an eye out for Hermione when he entered the great hall for breakfast. He had waited for her a while outside the girls' toilets, but had decided against it when she took over ten minutes. He figured she was waiting out his patience, to make sure he was gone by time she emerged. He thought briefly about proving her wrong, but he didn't want to upset her further. Mentioning her illness made the confident, defiant know-it-all a frightened little girl.

Severus knew he had a knack for knowing how to make people react a certain way to him. He kept Potter and his irritating posy at bay with his natural demeanor. When he was mad at Potter all he had to do was mention his father and watch him squirm, Weasley was easily insulted and making him do anything he didn`t want to do was the ultimate punishment. But Hermione Granger was not the girl he`d pegged her for...

He spotted her at the Gryffindor table sitting across from Potter and Weasley, listening thoughtfully as she nibbled on her hair, processing what was being said. She sat there with her friends, the fear and anger that had shown in her face so prominently earlier vanished. It was as if their conversation earlier had never happened.

_She`d have erased it from her memory if she could!God forbid she have a conversation with me that isn`t pleading on behalf of Longbottom!_ He approached her keeping his anger from boiling over, pushing the "I don`t need you" back for a later date. She needed someone, and as the only person who knew she was seriously ill, it was him she needed.

_I am far too happy about that,_ he chastised himself knowing that even if his longing to be close to her was rational, it was wrong to be happy about her illness as a means for it. It was bad enough he had loved one woman who could never return it, but to fall for another who he couldn`t have was cruel. Even more cruel was the only way he could ever have her. Something told him people had held her illness over her head before.

He knew a man who once held his wife's illness against her. It was the cruellest thing he had ever seen, and he wouldn't do it. At thirty-eight, he held the same belief he did when he was eight. Silias Snape was an evil man and Severus was terrified of becoming that monster.

He pushed his thoughts away as he came up behind Hermione and gently pulled the hair she had been chewing on out of her face. He leaned over her shoulder and spoke at a normal volume into her ear. "I believe I've asked you not to chew on your hair, Miss Granger."

"Of course, sir," she said in a false chipper tone with a broad smile that was equally as false. "You have a _lovely_ day now, sir!"

"I would, but I have a meeting with you after classes to look forward to." Severus let go of her hair in favour of folding his arms over his chest. "Be at my office promptly at four-thirty, if you're a moment too late the hole you're in will be much deeper. You have a _lovely _day now, Miss Granger!" his mock enthusiasm didn't quite match hers, but before he waltzed off he saw the expressions of her half the people around her were assurance he'd caused her enough trouble with them to make up for any more "I don't need yous", he'd be hearing.

"What was all that about?" Dumbledore asked as Severus took his place beside him at the teachers' table. His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses with an amused knowledge.

"I'm afraid the little know-it-all's found herself with a disgusting habit," he said as he began picking at his food selectively. "I was merely asking her to stop. Needless to say, the girl didn't take the criticism well."

"And to think," Dumbledore sighed. "I thought the quality time would bring the two of you closer together. But I guess an old fool can be wrong." He chuckled amused then looked at Severus. "How did you and Miss Granger get along last night?"

Severus restrained himself from bursting at the table, something told him his mentor already knew about Hermione's somnambulism. "When you asked me to watch over the girl I figured it was to keep her from walking off when the nurse wasn't looking. Knowing that she sleepwalks was fairly important, don't you think?"

"I didn't see any need to tell you," the old man laughed with whimsy.

"And why didn't you?" he nearly snapped, frustrated with him. "She was fast asleep I didn't expect her to just get up! It-it—" he took a short breath and huffed. "The fact that she sleepwalks was pertinent information."

"Yes, it was." Dumbledore nodded. "And _she_ was supposed to tell you."

The idea of that girl willingly giving up any clue as to what was wrong with her was so absurd Severus couldn't help but laugh. "She'd sooner purge the information from her mind than ever let me know," by the end of the sentence his laugh became a scoff which became a low grumble.

"She's a little attached to her independence is all," the old man commented. "She doesn't quite understand admitting she needs help isn't completely surrendering it."

"She's a teenager," McGonnagal interjected playing with her peas in a child-like manner. "I don't know a single one who accepts the fact we know best. She'll grow out of it."

"I'm afraid your little prodigy's going to have to grow out of it soon." Severus replied as he cast his eyes back to the girl.

Hermione was now the one talking animatedly with her friends, moving her hands as she spoke with a smile on her face. She occaisionally played with her fork as she spoke, she also often reached out her hands to meet one of the boy's arms or hands. After a reassuring clasp on Weasley's hand Hermione got up and walked away. It wasn't often she left without her friends, so he found it a bit peculiar. Once she was out the doors he got up to follow her.

She walked down a small corridor that wasn't frequented. She came to a wall that ended her path, she carefully placed her hands on one of the stone bricks. Pressing the stone in the wall opened up to a darkened room which she slowly walked into. He followed her quietly and hoped she wouldn't catch his movements almost directly behind her.

The room was small and square, it darkened as the wall shut behind them. In the pitch black Severus clung to the first corner he found and was glad to find something, a crate perhaps, he could duck behind. He felt a pang of shame for spying on her.

_It's necessary, and she's done it enough to warrant this._ He thought as the room lit up by sconces giving off a faint glow on each wall. The room was filled with crates piled along each of the walls, cobwebs filled each of corners and dust piled up on almost all of the surfaces in the room, showing just how often it was used. One lonely crate stood unassumingly in front of one of the piles of crates in his view, it stood out because the thin layer of dust that had covered the entire room seemed to neglect it.

Hermione sat at the crate, lowering herself slowly and using the crate as support. Once she was seated crossed legged on the dusty floor she struggled to lift the lid and set it aside. Rummaging through the crate she pulled out two vials of a deep azure liquid Severus immediately recognized as energy revival potions. Why she needed the needed the Navitas was lost on Severus, he pondered a brief moment but was broke from it as he watched her pull out a vial with an orange liquid he recognized as Orexis, an appetite building potion.

She quickly drank one of the Navitas and placed the other two viles in her bag. After this she placed the lid back on the crate with slightly less difficulty and dug out a three small orange bottles of pills and a water bottle. He watched her take two pills from two of the bottles and pop them quickly into her mouth, chasing them with the water. Hands steadier she put the pills back into her bag, but eyed one bottle still in hand.

She bit her lip as she stared down the bottle with apprehension. Indecision and uncertainty flickered in her eyes, even in the dim light provided by the sconces he could see it clearly. Everything about Hermione's position revealed she was ill-at-ease. The way she held the bottle at a distance meant she wanted nothing to do with it, she rocked very slightly, almost imperceptively, and she was slightly hunched over, her physical form reflecting her mental turmoil. She finally brought the pills close to her and unscrewed the lid with a resignated sigh.

"If I take these," she bargained with the sky, "I can't have the side effects. I'm only taking these to prevent it from coming back, I don't need the side-effects right now. Not when I'm cured..." with another sigh she popped two of the pills. "A magical replacement would be nice." She scoffed throwing them back into the back.

Hermione then pulled out a small mirror and examined herself briefly. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at herself. After a few well-chosen words he began to see changes in Hermione physically. Oxygen starved blue lips and fingers became pink, her pallid skin became rosy in the appropriate areas, and her bony hands fleshed out just enough to look healthy without being an obvious change. Severus wondered how long she had been using magic to hide her illness, and what the side-effects were of her medications. He watched her put the mirror back into her bag and get up to leave.

Hermione's legs wobbled as she bent over holding her head with one hand as she reached out for the wall to hold her up. She moved to where she was over the crate she had just closed and clumsily fell on to it. She placed her hands on either side of her head, supporting her bowed head as her elbows shook on her knees.

"It's this stupid condition!" she cried burying her hands in her face. She looked up to the ceiling once more, her voice now broke into a sorrowful screech. "Damn my condition! If you're out there, can you hear me? THANKS FOR THE DISEASE!"

He watched her silently as she began to sob. It dawned on him rather quickly that he was intruding on a very private moment. She was coming to grips with her illness, talking to whatever god she believed in an attempt to cope. He shouldn't have been intruding on her; she should have been able to be alone until she was ready to face people. His heart went out to her, it seemed all she wanted was to be healthy, it must have broke her heart knowing she was cured but still needed to take those awful medications. He was torn between wanting to comfort the broken girl and leaving her to think she was alone to cry. Had he away to leave her alone without being caught, he would have done it.

The sobbing stopped adruptly, taking Severus by surprise. Hermione raised her head from her hands and looked into his direction. Her eyes remarkably dry for someone who had spent the last few minutes crying, Severus had the feeling she had been used to quickly drying her eyes. Had others caught her distraught rants and mournful weeping? Did this mean he was caught? Or perhaps she just was about to leave and her looking in his direction was a coincidence.

"I don't know who you are," she said firmly eyes fixed at the crate he hid behind. "And I don't care. Show yourself or I'll seek you out."

At this, she drew her wand from her waist and was about to get up.

"Don't!" he sighed but spoke with urgency as he stepped out from behind the crate. "If you get up you'll get dizzy again."

"You—you—you—" Hermione squeaked as anger lit up her eyes, which were about to brim over again. She grabbed her bag and attempted to stand. This time as soon as she was nearly stood she lost balance immediately, her arms flailed about for support, knocking a crate over.

Severus was at her side in seconds with a firm hold on both her arms, leaning over to be eye level with her. As he helped her sit back down he said, "What did I just tell you?"

"I just wanted to leave," she sighed looking at anything but him. "I hardly see anything wrong with that."

She took to looking at the ceiling as it was safest. He stood across from her, bent over to meet the sitting girl at eye level, hands still on her arms; he made sure his grip was firm, but not tight. He didn't want her to lose her balance again. "You weren't ready, that's all."

Hermione rolled her tear-filled eyes. "I've been hearing that for the last twelve years, Professor. Don't become one of them. I've been brought up with that phrase referring to things most things toddlers take for granted. Don't patronize me, please..."

Severus felt his heart break when he saw her look at him in the eye, her eyes despite her best effort have finally brimmed over. He saw years of pain and turmoil plain on her face. He knew people treated those who were ill differently, that must've worn on her. He knew she thought knowing she is or was ill was the only reason he was being kind to her. He couldn't tell her the real reason he was the way he was toward her, but he had to offer her something...

"I'm not patronizing you, Miss Granger. It's called concern."

Hermione laughed painfully. "Or pity."

He sighed as he strung together something believable for her. "You're impossible sometimes. Stubborn, unruly, disrespectful, far too confidant and you are a show off and a liar." He moved one of his hands to her face, cupping her cheek and wiping a tear with his thumb. "And if I had a daughter, I imagine she'd be just like you."

Hermione's eyes widened for a moment in surprise, she had been deeply touched by her professor's words. In all honesty, a bit put off too, she had brief thoughts of a romantic relationship and he thought of her as a daughter. But she was still moved by his closeness and his admitting to it. No matter what he said, nothing made what he did to her acceptable. Hermione already had a father who monitored her constantly at home. She didn't need the invasions coming from him as well.

"Why were you spying on me?" she asked, her anger hadn't left her voice.

"I'm sorry," he spoke with sincerity. "I could tell you I was concerned, but I know it wouldn't change anything. I wasn't supposed to see this, and I should never have followed you." He let go of her shoulders at long last, but he sat next to her after moving a crate beside hers. Hermione hated how he used magic to do something he was capable of. If you have the physical ability to do things most people take for granted you should do it. "I needed to know. I needed to make sure you were safe." He reached for her hand and she moved it away from him. "I know that's no consolation, but it's the truth."

"I'm not sure if I can get up yet," she began swallowing alump. Her feet were numb from her blood favouring more vital organs, it would be a while before she could stand.

"Take all the time you need."

"Please just leave me alone." She hung her head and more tears hit the floor.

"If you're sure..." he agreed tentatively.

"Dead certain."

He sighed as he brushed away the hair that hid Hermione's tear stained face. There was no use in hiding her tears, he saw everything. She imagined it insulted him to hide so much from him when he had reached out to her. She was deeply moved by his reaching out, but all she could do was shut him out. She wasn't sure who she was angrier with, Snape or herself.

"Very well," he spoke with a troubled voice. With one last lingering look with equally troubled eyes he got up. He paused when he moved to open the passage, "Miss Granger?"

She barely managed a response of "Yes," she wanted him to leave her with her melancholy.

"You've reached out to me before, many times over the years. Just because I didn't accept the hand reached out to me doesn't mean I didn't appreciate it. I'm extending the same offer to you. If you ever get tired of talking to the sky, you know where to find me."

With this he left her alone with her thoughts. Hermione crumpled under the pressure of her reality. She had worked so hard to keep her sick life in her muggle life separate from her life as a witch. When she first came to Hogwarts she was finally in the company of people who didn't know about her cancer. She wasn't just the sick little girl, she was Hermione, a smart, sometimes annoying girl with strong values and an overall capable girl. Nobody treated her like she was dying, any love she gained at Hogwarts she earned by being herself. Nobody scrambled to help the feeble Hermione, instead people let her help them. That was something the girl diagnosed with cancer never had the pleasure of doing.

Here she was, as healthy as she could be, pretending to be healthy and normal, with real friends and she was doing something that mattered. She had carefully separated Hermione the sick girl and Hermione the witch, making sure her friends would never know the devastation cancer brings loved ones. That among the many selfish reasons she had. Hermione was beginning to feel like a whole person finally, and Severus Snape had ruined it.

Hermione's chest tightened as she felt a fluttering within it. The room began to spin around her as the pain in her chest increased, a wave of nausea came over her as the air she tried to breathe became heavier. Her vision was blurred, and she wasn't sure if it was from the tears or her dizziness. She wavered before falling to the floor and blacking out.

Severus wondered if he had done the right thing leaving Hermione alone when she could barely stand. Correction, Hermione _couldn't _ stand! The thought made Severus shudder internally as he thought of her trying to stand with no one there to keep her from hitting the hard floor. She could seriously be hurt by his leaving her to her own devices. _She wanted to be left alone, you sentimental fool! She;ll be fine!_

He always knew there was something wrong with her. Years of seeing clearly forced smiles, seeing her look out a window with her eyes vacant, the way her hands always shook when she was angry, and the intense sorrow that seemed to always sit behind her eyes. He wondered if she would have been better if he had tried to help her earlier. On the other hand he wondered if she'd be better off if he didn't involve himself with her. She had so much to worry about; the girl held herself accountable for her friends' welfare, she played a huge role in the war, she was widely hassled by the student body, she mothered Longbottom and on top of that she had her illness to worry about. Before he was outright about his affections for the girl, infact, long before he had affections for her, she had tried to help him.

"_Is something wrong?" asked a thirteen-year-old Hermione after he had asked her tostay after class._

"_I asked you not to help him," he sighed wishing she'd drop the act. "And yet you did. And to make it worse, you've been denying what we both know to be true. That's what's wrong."_

_With a heavy sigh she finally admitted "I couldn't just let him drown, professor. He smarter than you think, but you make him so nervous he can barely function. If you'd lay off—"_

"_Excuse me?" he snarled, finding her pleas for him annoying. "I didn't ask you to stay behind to put up with your defiant behaviour!"_

_Hermione hid her hands behind her back when she noticed their shaking. He debated whether or not to mention it, but before he came to the decision she screamed, "And I didn't come here to watch you tear my friends apart!"_

_His blood boiled as he watched the girl stare him down angrily. "I dare you to repeat that!"_

"_I didn't come here to watch tear my friends apart," she said in a calmer voice, but the anger remained in her face._

"_I think you just put your house in point-debt, as well as granted yourself detention through-out the month."_

"_Is that supposed to upset me?" she asked rolling her eyes folding her arms across her chest shooting him an unimpressed look._

_He returned the unimpressed look, "The amount you try to stay out of trouble, I assumed it would, but whether or not it does doens't affect it."_

"_Fair s fair, Professor," Hermione shifted slight frame from foot to foot. "Though I sometimes think you aim to upset us." Her eyes now offered a sort of sympathy, though a slight flame of anger still touched them._

_He wasn't sure which angered him more; her brashness, her accusation or her extending judgement free sympathy though she was still very angry with him. "And why would you say that?" he asked with a low barbed voice._

_She sighed as she leaned against a wall, looking at him with those irritating eyes, begging for honesty. "Look at how you treat each of us? You know just how to make us puppets on a string. You intimidate Neville into compliance, you insult Harry's pride or bring up his dead parents, you know it upsets him enough so he can't think straight. And you make Ron feel inferior until he's so flustered he walks into all of your traps. You do this with all of us."_

_Severus was caught off guard by her honesty, but more impressed by how level headed she was presenting the information. Moments before her hands were shaking with rage, though the anger hadn't left her eyes. "You're a clever girl, Granger," he admitted drawing closer to her. "It amazes me you've caught on to that and yet are still so blind you can't see that there is a very good reason for it."_

"_Enlighten me, then?" she challenged. "Because it just seems like a bunch of childish tantrums to me."_

_He bit his tongue and kept from bursting, his fuse was short, and lit, but his desire to not proveher right kept him at bay. "My methods are not for you to question, little girl."_

_Hermione rolled her eyes cast him a tired look. "Then I have every right to keep my rather low opinion of you."_

"_One student holding me in alow opinion won't devastate me."_

_The anger left her eyes and surrendered to the sympathy that churned his stomach. He kept everyone he knew at a safe distance, so why did she still reach out to him?_

_She wavered a little, with a staggered gait, she walked to the nearest desk and leaned against it. Her sympathetic eyes still on him she spoke: "I desperately want to believe you're a better person than I've taken you for. I don't understand why you're so angry with the world, but I want to."_

_He looked at her forlornly knowing that she held something dark behind her as well. "Why?"_

"_I understand what it's like to see how unfair the world is and feel like the only thing to do is crumple under it. It's obvious to me that your life hadn't been easy; I don't know why, but I do." She looked at him and reached her hand to the desk he leant on, still respecting his boundries. "I won't pretend to understand everything, I don't know what you've been through, but I know it was hard. I also know people can't make it through such horrors without some sanctuary or person to lean on."_

_Before he replied his eyes went to the purple and grey dotting along the back of her hand. "Where did those bruises come from?"_

_With in an instant what little colour the girl had drained and her already unstable body shook as she looked at her bruised hand. She stood, shifting from foot to foot as she pulled the sleeve back over her hand. "I bruise really easily."_

"_How unfortunate," he nodded. "But I'm afraid that doesn't answer my question."_

_Hermione cast her eyes down as held her arms close to her as she tried to control her shaking. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading him to stop asking. "For all I know I just hit it against a wall. Again, I bruise really easily."_

"_The bruising's very precise, Miss Granger..." he sighed. "I don't appreciate being lied t."_

"_If you have any respect for me as a human being you wouldn't ask me that!" she cried. "No one's noticed them before now, why do you have to? They're beginning to fade!"_

_A million flashbacks of his own childhood played through his head like a sick play, he inwardly shuddered at the thought of the same things happening to her. Swallowing the anger he knew wouldn't help he spoke as calmly as possible. "This is one of the hardest parts of my job. But it has to be done to ensure your safety."_

_She shot daggers at him with her tear stung eyes. "I obtained the bruises over the summer, so it's really none of your buissness. Please stop asking."_

_A wave of emotion poured over him as he watched the fragile girl overcome by fear. She wavered, looking like she was about to lose balance, he reached out his arms to help support her. "Perhaps you should sit down..."_

_She recoiled from his offer to help. "Please don't touch me!" she snapped. But she did as instructed and sat._

"_Even if you got the bruises over the summer," he began. "We still need to know. How do we know your life isn't in danger?"_

"_It's not!" she cried._

_This quickly turned into a screaming match between the two. He kept telling her it was important and she begged him to stop asking her. He wasn't sure how long it went on before Hermione's pale face greened and she trembeled._

"_I'm gonna be sick!" she sprang from her chair and started from the door._

"_You won't make it, the sink's over there." He pointedand ushered her over to it._

_After a violent session of her coughing and gagging over the sink, she finally turned back to him, looking worse for wear she said: "Can I leave now?"_

"_Yes," he answered shortly. "Can you make it to the door?"_

"_I'm not an invalid, Professor," she said hoarsely and began for the door._

_He didn't know what made him look in the sink before cleaning it with magic, but he did. When he looked he saw the porcelain stained red with blood._

Snapping back to the present, Severus wondered if the bruises and vomiting blood were also symptoms. Her mystery illness had baffled and frustrated him to no end. She kept telling him—and herself—she was cured, but she still acted and looked so sick. She had trouble standing, and was lethargic without the aid of potions. On top of this she needed potions to give her an appetite.

He went over the symptoms as he noticed them in order. Thin, but that wasn't a tell-tale for teenaged girls, she was pale, her bluish nails and lips, her dizzy spells, bruises, vomiting blood and finally her mysterious chest pains.

Severus Snape was a man of logic, he was clever, and most puzzles he could peice together without effort. But he knew little of the human body, making this impossible. Between classes he poured over mediwizardry texts in his office he had dug out of the library.

None of the books offered a diagnosis for the ailing Hermione Granger. "Damnit!" he slammed his fist against his desk. He didn't know why she couldn't just be upfront with him about her illness? He already lost his mother to ALS—or possibly his father, he certainly made everything worse—when he was eighteen. That feeling of not being able to help as he watched her fade away in that cold hospital room lingered with him, and bore deep into his mind everytime he saw Hermione stricken by her illness.

It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, but she was still a sixteen-year-old girl who had her whole life a head of her, and still she was sick. He wondered selfishly why every woman he'd ever loved was ripped away from him because she was victimized by something she didn't deserve. His mother was hit by a double whamy with ALS and an abusive husband, Hermione was ill, and he couldn't bear to think of the woman he had loved since he was eight-years-old.

He rolled up his sleeve and looked at the tattoo on his arm just below the inside of his elbow in disgust. A snake coiled around a skull looking at him mockingly. It was a mark of betrayal to her, and something he could never forgive himself for. He bore his Dark Mark like a scar he was ashamed of.

Little did he know Hermione had a scar of her own that defined her as much as his defined him.


	8. Chapter 8: The Night Visit

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to see the bright waxing moon shining through an arched latticed window in a darkened, familiar wing of the hospital. It was almost as familiar as muggle hospitals were for her. She cringed as she remembered the drone of macherinery and the endless needles, treatments, and the eyes always on her.

Sitting up, she looked around the wing, there were two other patients staying tonight. Both of them were far away from her, and to her knowledge, laid fast asleep in their beds. She longed for human company, hospitals, magic or muggle, made Hermione uneasy. Since she could remember, she spent endless days locked up in a hospital room with nothing better to do than read. She dreamt of an escape from the doctors and treatments, from her everything her condition held her back from.

Until the day earlier Hogwarts had been that. She silently cursed Snape as she heaved a sigh and fell back into her bed. How many times had her mother attributed her survival over the years to her stubbornness? Hell, Hermione Jean Granger was born to Siobhan and Will Granger blue skinned and severely underweight with next to know heart beat. The doctor gave her less than a month to live, but the stubborn little girl fought through it. Her treatments had always took so much from her, she hated that, but surprisingly, even as a small child, Hermione made it through chemo with only a fraction of the physical it should have put her through. She never even lost her hair (though some of Harry's anecdotes told her that the magic inherent in her was too busy keeping her hair than getting rid of the cancer). She even made it through her most recent surgery that removed the cancer from her body when they gave her a 30% survival chance.

So why, when she was at her healthiest could she only weep and wind up stuck in this awful place? How did she wind up there anyway? Last thing Hermione remembered was taking her pills and potions when...

"Damn it!" she hissed as she remembered what happened before she passed out. Snape had been spying on her! He followed her to that small chamber and watched her self-medicate, she hard a shuffling and he stepped out. She tried to walk away, but she was so upset her heart wasn't beating right, making her dizzy and fall. He stayed with her till she told him to leave... "It's his fault I fainted!"

"Who's?" Ron asked, standing before her with Harry at his side.

Harry lifted his wand and muttered "Muffilato," before speaking, his green eyes filled with a love fit for a sibling as he sat by her feet. "We figured if you weren't sleeping you'd like some company. Last I checked you 'hate hospitals to the extent you'd saw off your own foot to leave'"

Ginny, who emerged from behind her taller brother sat beside her with a giant ginger cat in her arms, making the petite girl look even tinier. "It all seems very counter-productive to me, but we didn't want you trying."

"Well, you guys were all right. I was just about to spring from this joint." She smiled turning to Crookshanks. "How'd you know I'd miss him?"

"This many nights in a row without him might have put you into shock." Ron scoffed. "Ginny says you always sleep with him."

Ginny offered her a smile as her blue eyes sparkled at seeing her friend conscious. She let go of Crookshanks (who immediately curled up in Hermione's lap), and pulled an old plush husky out of her bag. "That reminds me of another thing you don't go a night without."

"Mr. Snickerdoodle!" Hermione hugged her childhood toy happily, put it aside and threw her arms around Ginny. "Thank you!" she felt the tears well-up in her eyes. "Thank you all so much!" she added throwing her arms around her two oldest and best friends.

Ron clung onto her a little longer than Harry and Ginny, he patted her bushy hair and said: "Yea gotta stop doing this to us!"

Hermione laughed at his half joke. "I'll stop right away if you all take me away right now."

The all laughed happily as if they weren't even in a hospital. Hermione was grateful for their illicit visit, typically she would have chastised them for breaking the rules, but she needed this, and she knew Harry, Ginny and Ron were no novices to staying hidden. They'd be fine and she'd have company.

"I don't think it's good for us to kidnap a patient right now, Hermione," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Snape's patrolling the castle tonight and he looks for ways to get us in trouble. If we get caught out of our dorms after hours _and_ sneaking a patient out of the hospital, it just wouldn't end well."

"He's just causing all sorts of trouble these days!" Hermione huffed as she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, he's such a miserable man!"

Ron gasped covering his mouth dramatically as his blue eyes twinkled with humour. "Hermione Granger! Making fun of a teacher? You must be ill." He ruffled her already untidy hair.

"I feel like I've been sleeping forever!" Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically then turned serious. "Any more news on that mysterious note book?"

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron groaned. "You know talking about it upsets you, why bring it up?"

Harry, who normally got agitated when she talked about the book sighed. "When you're here too long you start to feel out of touch with everything. You need to know everything that's going on." He turned back to her with a shrug. "We've made absolutely no progress."

"None?" she asked slightly suspiscous, Harry had always been kinda private about the book. But not wanting to ruin the moment anymore she turned back to casual conversation. "So, how are things anyway?"

"They're better now that you're awake," Ron smiled taking her hand.

"Don't be too touched, Hermione," Ginny warned. "He's been going on about wanting you to help him with his homework!"

"Ronald Weasley," she teased. "Is that all I am to you?"

Ron quickly wrapped his arms around her with an over enthused "We missed you so much!"

Bursts of laughter from the friends were quickly cut off by an irate voice snapping "What the hell is going on here!"

They all turned their heads to see a tall, black clad pallid man glaring at the four of them, hands fanned out gesturing to the secret meeting. A fire burned in his black eyes as he waited.

Harry took down the muffalatio spell down and returned the harsh glare.

Hermione spoke hoping to make the encounter less disastorous. "I asked them to come later on an earlier visit. I knew I wouldn't sleep, and nights here are so long. Besides, if it wasn't for them I would have tried to leave."

"Next time think a little bit before blantantly lying to me," he scowled. "Did you honestly think it'd achieve anything?"

"Yes," she sighed. "But I suppose I should have known better."

Snape walked over to Hermione and glowered over her. "I assure you, even if it had been true, it wouldn't change anything." He turned his attention to her visitors. "Will one of you three explain why you felt the need to sneak into the hospital wing to see a girl who had been unconscious for three days?"

"three days!" Hermione squeaked incredulous.

"If she wasn't awake we would have left, Professor," Ginny said, anger edging her voice. "But we figured we should try. She's been out for a really long time, and knew if she woke up at night it'd be nice for her to see people."

"Did it ever occur to you to that it's not safe to see patients without Madam Pomfrey's permission?" he pointed at the trembling with anger Hermione. "This girl is very sick, and keeping her from resting is doing her more harm than good!"

"I've been resting for three days!"

"Look at her!" Harry was now the one pointing. "Actually seeing people has made her alot better."

Snape jabbed an accusing finger in Harry's face as he hissed. "How dare you speak to me that way? You arrogant, stupid boy!"

"Leave him alone!" Ginny and Ron spat in unision.

"Will you four stop bickering like children?" Hermione groaned.

"I haven't the patience to deal with Potter's Weasley duo defense. You two may want to think about your positions."

It went on like this for a while before Ron turned to Hermione, who had been patiently petting her cat waiting for an opening, and nearly shouted. "Why don't we ask Hermione then? It's her we're arguing about she might as well have a say!"

"I'm waiting for the walking green," she sighed.

"That would be now, Granger," Snape said. "And it is about to turn."

Hermione looked at the irate four standing over her. "I've been deprived of human company for three days. I know I'm not going to sleep tonight, I've already lost so much time. Time, was I really sleeping for three days?"

All four of them looked at her with some sadness conveyed in their eyes. Hermione continued before any of them could speak, she thought she knew better than to ask questions she didn't want the answers to.

"Time drags on here when you're alone. Hours feel like days, you lose track as if you're suspended in eternity. Hospital stays essentially leave you starved for company and a tie to the outside world." With a final sigh she added, "I feel like a canary trapped in a cage."

"If you're so inconsolable I'll stay with you." Snape said cooly.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchanged questioning looks, even the cat seemed confused at the offer. Their attention was turned back to the man standing before them.

"And that'll be fifty points from Gryffindor," he began.

Ron opened his mouth to object but was quickly cut off by a bored and detatched tone.

"Yes, fifty, Mr. Weasley. Ten from you three, and twenty from Miss Granger for lying to me. I think it's perfectly justified." He turned to Hermione his tone sounded more disappointed. "Next time you so inclined to lie to me, I'd remember that we know exactly what goes on with students in critical conditions. Meaning, if you were awake for a minute before now, we'd now."

"I'll try to remember that."

"Miss Weasley, I think I'd be alright to let you stay with her tonight under the condition you don't set foot from this wing. And you boys and that cat should be gone when I check to see that our little canary didn't spring from her cage."

With this he left the group confused. Harry and Ron hugged Hermione and Ron promised to keep Crookshanks company while she had to be in the hospital. Harry kissed Ginny goodbye and the boys were off, leaving the girls alone in the quiet hospital room.

"I wonder what possessed him to allow me to stay here with you," Ginny pondered crawling into bed with her.

"I don't care," Hermione laughed. "I'm just glad he did. I would have hated to be here alone!"

Ginny giggled as she tapped Hermione's nose. "You wouldn't've been alone, you silly girl."

Hermione threw her head back in laughter hitting Ginny with her thick hair. "Believe me, sweetie, I want your company more!"

"Watch where you're throwing that stuff!" Ginny's eyes widened in mock fear. "Your hairs thick enough to feel like stone!"

"I plan to use it as rope so I can climb up and down Gryffindor tower!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and made herself a beard with the brown bushy tendrils. "Or you can make a Hallowe'en costume."

"Or wigs for cancer patients," Hermione said taking the bushy locks back. "Because it's so thick it can make a lot of wigs. Bonus points if they can manage it to make them."

"Maybe it would be better if it wasn't in your mouth all the time!"

"Okay, Mum," Hermione rolled her eyes as she stifled a laugh. "You may want to use the muffilatio spell so we don't wake the others. I would, but I won't get my wand till I'm deemed healthy enough to have one!"

"Sounding a bit bitter, love," Ginny laughed grabbing her wand and casting the spell.

"I just hate spending so much time here," Hermione sighed. "I can't believe I slept for three days. I've felt so good this year, so why am I spending so much time here?"

"You hit your head really hard when you fell, when Snape brought you here your head was actually bleeding. He was very frantic and irate coming in here with you in his arms. He kept yelling at Pomfrey saying that you weren't ready to be discharged and that it was her fault you fainted."

Hermione's eyes widened at her information. She should have assumed it was Snape that brought her here, he was the only one who knew where she was. But she had trouble imagining him screaming at the nurse about her health in full view of other students. She also couldn't believe he blamed her fainting on Pomfrey...then again, she didn't see that man owning up to anything that was his fault.

"I was in here asking the nurse if you'd been in when he came storming in holding you really close to him, it wasn't till he marched up to Pomfrey I noticed your head bleeding. He practically threw a tantrum for the whole hospital wing to see."

"Tantrums are his style," Hermione mused nibbling on her hair as she thought back to every one of his classes.

"When he laid you down he immediately covered you. He wouldn't take his eyes off of you, even when he was snapping at Pomfrey. Every gasp and move you made he'd lean over you, or take your hand, or touch your forehead. He didn't take his eyes off you when he told me I should leave and that I'd have plenty of time to visit when you woke up. Pomfrey says he's been here every night to check in on you since he brought you here. I'm sure he'd have loved to be here standing over your hospital bed when you opened your eyes."

Hermione clutched her chest as she felt a pang. "Everynight?"

Ginny's blue eyes lit up as she giggled, touching her cheek. "Harry and Ron were just as baffled as you are when she told us."

Hermione twirled a tendril of hair around her finger and placed it in her mouth as she nibbled thoughtfully. Why had he visited her all those nights? "It seems wierd she'd tell you guys he's been here every night."

"We came to visit yesterday and he was standing over you with your hand in his, he leaned over you and whispered something in your ear. When he saw us he left quicker than you could say 'huh'. Harry and Ron were expressing some disapproval and complained about how irritabe he's been lately. That's when Pomfrey told us that he's been here to see you every night and that he's been simply out of sorts since he brought you here."

"That just seems so strange for him..."

Ginny nodded. "Y'know, for those of us who see you alot, you're actually sort of pretty beyond you're tell-tale sick features."

Hermione shot he friend a quizzical look. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Ginny smiled mischieviously. "I think our dear professor fancies you."

Severus walked down the hall patrolling for any other students who sprung from their beds. He hadn't spent as much attention to it as he should have. But he instead spent his time mulling through his thoughts and memories about Hermione. When in his mind did she make the transition from an annoying little slip of a girl to the one he couldn't live without? His grappling with his thoughts about the girl had gone on far too long, he had to accept the fact that he loved her.

_Nine or ten twelve-year-old girls sat around a small round table, Hermione sat among them with a book open infront of her and a guitar set across her lap. Only three years older than her pupils, she smiled sweetly as she tried to get the girls to add to the discussion._

"_So, why is Socrates the world's first feminist?" Hermione asked the girls after reading a passage aloud. "Why do I hold that opinion?"_

_A small dark-haired girl in the circle sheepishly raised her hand, looked around uneasily and shot it back down as a blond's hand shot up reached a hand out to the girl's and gave her a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to be afraid of being wrong, Dani,"_

"_Your hands are very cold," Dani mentioned taking her hand back. "I was gonna ask if it was really Socrates, or if it was Plato who held the feminist views."_

_Hermione nodded in approval as she hid her grey-white hand behind the guitar. "That's a really good question. No one knows if this ever actually happened, Plato wrote it with Socrates as a medium. We take it for granted it happened. What do you girls think? Shyloh?"_

_A blue-haired, black-clad girl lazily sighed. "Why would this Plato guy use real people if it didn't happen? I think it's just stupid."_

"_Why do you say that, Shyloh?" Hermione asked patiently. _

"_Because it is. No one would write something with real people if it didn't , Dani"_

_Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by another voice._

"_Back off, Shy," said a blond girl with a Tenesee accent. "Y'all can't keep cutting down Dani. All you'll ever be is—"_

"_Tansy," Hermione began. "I appreciate you standing up for Dani, but please don't add to the fire. Shyloh, you know our rules of mutual respect, it's unfair of you to treat Dani, or anyone else like that." She turned to Tansy. "I'm sorry, Tansy, what were you going to say?"_

"_I was just gonna say that Socrates is considered the first feminist because all these philosophers are goin' on and on about how women aren't intelligent or spiritual, and he brings up a female philosopher and sets them aback. But why doesn't Diotima get no credit? Ain't it her words he's using?"_

"_Nerd," Shyloh groaned._

_The class went on like this, Severus watched Hermione make very casual conversation with the girls as they discussed the play. Hermione then played a song for them, the girls all gave their interpretations of it, he quickly saw Tansy was the Hermione of the group, Shyloh was the nasty attention grabber, a black Irish girl by the name of Seleste was quiet but willing to put her two pense in, a girl who stood out merely because of her plainness named Stephanie held responses similar to the less aggressive members of the group. Hermione spent most of her time trying to reign in the insulting Shyloh and drawing out the quiet wall-flower Dani. Severus didn't have to be a genius to see the maternal bond Hermione was forming with a girl only three years her junior. He would impart his wisdom on the girl once the class was over._

"_Who's the man in the corner?" asked Tansy._

_Hermione turned her head to him and rolled her eyes. She sat down the guitar and walked over to him. "I'm trying to teach a class. If you want to sign your daughter up for the program, the lady at the front desk can do that."_

"_I'm here for you, Miss Granger. I figured I'd stay out of your way until you were done 'class'. And I use the term loosely."_

_Hermione looked angry for a moment, then rolled her eyes speaking with a resignated sigh, "Pull up a chair, don't be disruptive, don't insult or emotionally injure my girls or criticize my methods infront of them. Actually, just sit down and shut up."_

_The girls looked shocked as if they'd never seen her act that way before. Even that little shit Shyloh was set aback by her aggressive behaviour. He got the sense that she went to back-breaking lengths to be nice to the girls. He also quickly found the maternal behaviour reached out to the entire class, which she affectionately dubbed as "her girls"._

_After dismissal she called Shyloh back. She slumped into a chair and looked unimpressed at Hermione. It upset Severus to watch her disrespect Hermione so outwardly. He wondered why she kept reaching out to those who gave her little reason to._

"_Shyloh," Hermione began seriously, "some of the other girls are findingit difficult to learn anything with your behaviour. I know you don't want to be here, none of them do. You're all here because you want to go on to the next grade, you only have to come here once a week. I know it's summer and you have better things to do. But so does Dani, and Tansy and the rest of us. I know it's so hard to be a twelve-year-old girl, I was one not that long ago. You'll find with the years—"_

"_My God, Hermione, you're fifteen! How the hell can you talk about the wisdom i'll find with the years? And for that matter, why is a fifteen-year-old teaching? What does the three years between us offer me?"_

"_Shyloh, please, listen to me," Hermione seemed to be restraining herself from maternal gestures. "I know you're a good girl, and a smart one. You're—"_

"_Don't waste your time on this delinquent, Miss Granger," Severus sighed placing a hand on her shoulder. "My dear, you were always so drawn to hopeless cases. I half-hoped you'd grow out of it."_

_Shyloh's eyes widened and tears seemed to sting her eyes. She lookedto Hermione hoping she would defend her. When she said nothing in her defence Hermione wriggled out from under his hand and picked up the discarded guitar and book. "You might as well, go, Shy. Catch up with your friends and head to the beach before it's too late."_

"_Why the hell did you do that?" she snapped after Shyloh left. "What'd that poor girl do to you!"_

"_That 'poor girl'—as you call her—blantantly disrespected you, insulted you after you tried to help her, and frankly, it was painful watching trying to handle her."_

"_Shyloh's very different, she had a hard life, and because of that she has the belief if she doesn't stand out, she'll disappear." Hermione sighed sitting down. "All my girls need help, even if they don't understand it."_

"_You have to let your students come to you, otherwise they'll see how badly you want to help and they'll take advantage of you."_

"_And I suppose that's what happened to you?" she had tried to snap, but she sounded genuily concern._

"_No, but I've seen it enough. Grab whatever you have here. Your parents alreadysent everything you'll need with Mrs. Weasley. When they said you were working as a summer school teacher I decided I need to see it, so I volunteered to come get you. Why on earth did they let a fifteen-year-old girl teach?"_

"_It's a special make up program for girls who have issues. Like, Tansy wound up failing the last grade because she moved from Nashville to Whitby in January. It's not a deeply personal issue, but nonetheless, she switched countries adn went from a relatively popular straight A student to an ostircized hillbilly who couldn't grapple with the changes...Anyway, the girls connect better with teenagers."_

"_And they give them no respect," he scoffed placing both hands on the girl's shoulders. The two appeared in the Blacks' kitchen. Severus straightened the wobbling girl and offered his advice saying she was far too gentle with the girls. This turned into a long arguemnet about how the other is ineffective, Hermione tossed around words like, "cold", "unfair" , "bully" , "immature" and :condescending". Severus called his pupil a "naive, foolish little girl who would have people taking advantage of her." The arguement ended with Hermione shrieking "My girls are not deliquints!" _

_She stared at him, shooting daggers with her brown eyes. It was then, he saw her eyes and the raging hurricane behind them, a touch of cynicism aged her significantly as a childish hope also sparked in her eyes. Hermione Granger had knowledge and trails beyond her years. It was this point he wanted nothing more than to take care of her. As this realization came upon him, Hermione fainted._

He thought briefly about her canary metaphor, he then remembered his dream of her crying over a baby canary. He couldn't make heads or tails of the things he'd said to her in the dream, all he could really remember was her weeping inconsolably over the dead bird and his deep desire to comfort her. Maybe the broken winged bird was part of her...but he wasn't sure.

He thought back to the afternoon he found her in the courtyard lying beneath a tree, it was entirely possible she had fainted and was just able to lie about it. He was immediately grateful for his decision to let Ginny Weasley stay with her. He would not allow that girl to be alone until she was out of his care.

"I'll never understand you, will I?" Hermione asked after he went to check in on her.

"I could just as easily say the same for you," he lightly touched her head where she'd hit it. "Though I don't have the disadvantage of a head injury. Does this still hurt?"

"A little," she surpressed a wince.

He briefly looked at the sleeping girl at her side and recalled yet another health problem she had. "Don't you ever sleep?"

Hermione laughed bitterly "I've slept for three days, Professor. _Three days_! If I hadn't known any better, I'd think you're trying to get me to sleep my life away."

Severus looked at the girl sadly, three days of idleness made her antsy, she needed to do something other than try and repair the damage done with her head injury. "There's a very big difference between being incapacitated and actual restorative sleep. I assumed you'd have known that already, or is your ignorance chosen?"

"Life's far too short to be out for three days," her voice broke slightly and she refused to look at him. "I only have so much time, and I'll never get those three days back. I've taken so much time for granted, I can't afford to anymore. Really, nobody can. Why do human beings take so much for granted?"

"Because if we all thought about everything being our last we wouldn't be able to live a full life in one way or another. Thinking so much about one's mortality isn't healthy. It'll either depress you or make you reckless." He gently stroked her hair, his attempt to be affectionate left him untangling his fingers from the mass of chocolate curls. "I see it's done both to you. You won't leave this life regret free,this something I know too well. Now you said you were cured, I personally don't believe you, but if it is true, you have a new lease on life. Act like it."

"It's true" she said.

"Nor do I care if it's true," he lied with a twist in his heart as the words came from his lips. "You were cured of one thing and you were left with other problems that need to be addressed. Stop refusing to address them and take it one day at a time." He lifted her chin slightly and looked her in the eye. "I don't like watching you do this to yourself, Miss Granger. You're a smart girl, start behaving like one."

"I've been addressing them," she spoke firmly with a bitter tone.

"Look where it got you. A girl so prone to fainting shouldn't seek to be alone so often."

"I didn't plan on fainting!" she snapped and her hands began shaking.

"Nobody does. But you knew you ran the risk of it. That's good enough to hold you accountable for."

"I see you no longer blame Madam Pomfrey? At least you've made progress."

"She's just as much to blame as you are; she knew it wasn't safe to discharge you. Just as you knew you were likely to have another episode. I knew you'd be getting yourself into some sort of trouble when you left the table."

"That didn't give you any right to spy on me!" she cried.

"No," he said apologetically. "It wasn't right for me to spy on you; but it was even worse I left you alone. I saw you struggling to stand, I knew you shouldn't have been left alone. If I hadn't have left you alone you wouldn't have hit your head. And for that I'm sorry." his black eyes were filled with remorse and concern, his face at last betrayed a sincerity that made Hermione's anger melt.

"If you're asking for my forgiveness, you have it. Though it's not leaving me alone I have to be angry about, so you might as well let it rest. There's no reason to feel guilty about that."

"It was wrong to leave you alone in there." The grip on her chin tightened and his expression hardened. "Trust me when I say that is a mistake I won't be making again anytime soon."

"Is that a threat?"

"Consider it a promise."

Expecting a dramatic exit Hermione turned back to writing in her book. A light shone from behind her illuminating the pages she'd been writing on. The light came from Snape's wand, and he stood holding it as he looked at her with a mixture of amusement and tiredness. "You'll ruin your eyes by the time you're eighteen."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she shut the book. "You sound like my mother."

"And you act like mine."

Hermione thought a while on his words, he had said it so matter of factedly that she didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. Why was he such a mystery? Had she upset him somehow, is that why he mentioned it? How was she acting like his mother? Why couldn't he just say what it was she was doing?

"Hermione Granger, get your hair out of your mouth."

"Honestly," Hermione said removing the coarse hair from her mouth. "I should just put you and my mother in a room and let you go at it!"

Snape let out a laugh as he condescendingly patted her cheek. "It wouldn't be any fun without you to get after, now would it?"

"I suppose it wouldn't. "

A silence passed between them, their banter had met a dead end and Hermione took to her writing as Severus watched her intently. Hermione was immersed as her quill glided across the paper with an elegancy he wasn't used to seeing, she rarely paused to twirl the quill between her teeth, or to straighten the covers over Ginny Weasley in a maternal fashion. Like that night in the meadow, the awkward flower bloomed, looking both older and younger than sixteen.

When the intensity in her eyes faded and the quill failed to glide Severus walked quickly to the cupboard and took out one of the many sleeping potions and turned back to see Hermione hadn't noticed his leaving she had been so engrossed. When he reached her he gently rested her shoulder to get her attention.

A hand touched Hermione's shoulder breaking her concentration. She looked up to see Snape bent to be at eye level as he free hand held a bottle of purple liquid in front of her. "Take it."

Hermione sighed as she took the bottle. There was just no arguing with the likes of Severus Snape, she would just have to learn to live with it. She was convinced his fixation with her would pass when something more dire would happen. She was something to kill time, he probably couldn't stand the idleness the quiet of the other side imposed.

With a dramatic eye roll she scoffed "Too my health." She lifted the bottle to her lips and all but inhaled it. She gently placed the bottle on the side table.

"How is it I act like your mother?" Hermione asked in a drowsied state.

"Lie down, Miss Granger," he ordered softly. `She obeyed. "You have alot of her behaviours. You take good care of others, but refuse to let others take care of you. And then we have the problem of your sympathy, you hand it out too freely, but we'll have plenty of chances to talk about that."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked now feeling the full effects, fading out of consciousness. As she was on the precipice of sleep she felt him hold her hand and lean into her ear with a gentle whisper that she must have imagined.

"Just close your eyes, dear."


	9. Chapter 9 Wrestling

"_She's filth, Severus!" Bellatrix cackles as she tosses her head back. "But she is a pretty li'l thing." She throws Hermione down to his feet. "Ithink you should make use of her."_

_Hermione whimpers at his feetas she trembles knowing she's surrounded by death-eaters, tormenting the girl who is only covered by a thin blanket. Everyone in that room knows Hermione Granger is not leaving there alive._

"_I don't know why you keep falling for mudbloods, Severus," Voldemort groans. "I see no problem in you having what you want before killing her."_

"_I honestly don't see why you didn't just take what you wanted in the first place!" Bellatrix laughs happily in a sing-song voice. "It's not like the silly li'l knit could do anything about it, could you, sweet thing?"_

_Hermione rolls her eyes and spits at the woman standing over her. _

_He listened to a few more jeers made at Hermione's expense before kneeling infront of her. The room grew silent as he lifted Hermione's chin to examine her tear stained face. She trembled under his touch. Her eyes flickered with anger and she hissed, "Kill me."_

_Laughter broke out in the room once again, but this time Severus ignored it as he pressed his lips against Hermione's with a fervent passion. She tries to pull away from him, but he quickly pulls her in, gripping her arms tightly. It's no secret he's much stronger than she is._

_The laughter grows loud enough to be past the point of ignoring after Severus lays her down, pinning her to the floor. She screams and weeps under him as he violates her in the worst ways he could imagine, nobody in the room took mercy on the mudblood being raped. Bellatrix's laugh is the worst, singing "Poor thing, You poor daft thing." Much to Severus's dismay he enjoys raping the woman he loves._

_After he finishes, he kisses her and wipes away her tears, moments after molesting the girl he repeats the process. The vile process he couldn't stop himself from repeating, he doesn't care that she's weeping under him, begging him to stop or struggling ineffectively. This horrifies him._

_Finally, he's finished with her, he gets dressed, stands and draws his wand."Mudblood whore," he says kicking her ribs. He walks away as if he'll leave the weeping girl where she lays, but turns back and aims his wand at her, she lay on the floor naked and broken beyond repair. Hesitantly he waves his wand._

"_AVADA KADAVRA!"_

_Hermione is dead._

Severus awoke with a jolt, bolting upright as he clentched his sweat-drentched sheets, hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to catch his breath. The room around him began spinning, resembling the world that was slipping out of his control.

He wasn't sure to be terrified of the dream's implacations or to brush it off as a nightmare. It was no use being angry at himself for dreaming it, but he was. Hermione Granger, for all her repulsive qualities, could never deserve such a dreadful thing, no one did. He tried to prevent her from coming to harm, so how come he couldn't keep himself from being a risk to her?

Splashing water on his face in his private bathroom, Severus erased any trace of the tears that had been pouring from his eyes. Love was a strange thing that he wished would leave him alone. It wasn't just him this awful obsession with her was hurting; it was dangerous if anyone found out about his feelings for her.

He had to stay away from her, it was the only way to keep it from slipping.

"But what about her illness?" he asked no one, perhaps himself.

Hermione denied her illness at every confrontation, she wouldn't open up to someone else, and someone had to be with her constantly. He was the only one she couldn't push away, the only one who could be more stubborn than her. How could he avoid her if he was the only one who could help her?

"Damn it!" he cried throwing down the cloth in his hands and stormed out of the toilet, and slumping into the chair behind his desk. He racked his brains as he thought of suitable hands to give Hermione to. Potter was definatley stubborn enough to but heads with her, but it was far too easy to convince him she was fine.

Weasley was another story. He had been poorly hiding the fact he was in love with the girl since he was twelve. From his own experience, he knew you couldn't harbour feelings for someone half your life and not act in their best interests. His hot-headedness was a pain for him, but would certainly be Hermione's saving grace.

He knew he'd have to hand her over to him eventually, though he never thought it'd be so soon. With a sigh he noted the open book on his desk, on top of it were his carelessly discarded notes on Hermione's condition. Since her hospitalization he'd been pouring over any medical book he could get a hold of, in hopes of figuring it out. He'd just left the books there, open for anyone to see once he'd given up. He'd given up and left them there, just as he'd just left Hermione alone that day.

He blamed himself for her head injury, as much as he wanted to blame Pomfrey, or even Hermione herself. She knew it was his fault too. The look in her eyes when she snapped at him told him so. He'd be damned if she'd ever learn how much that look killed him. He could face untold evils, force himself to smile while watching, or doing the most horrendous things a man could do. He risked death daily and the downfall of all he knew and cared for. But one stupid little girl could tear him apart with a bloody look.

_You'll break me before you graduate, Hermione_ he thought as closed the book and returned to his bedroom to get dressed. He wasn't going to sleep anymore that night, his concern for Hermione wouldn't let him. He started for the small courtyard in a part of the castle that wasn't frequented.

As he watched the sunrise on the bench beneath the oak Hermione often laid, he thought of their encounters in the courtyard. He remembered the first one fondly, it had been a simple teasing and cheeky responses, but it was the only time their meeting hadn't been interfered with by Hermione's disease.

As the golden-red sun rose above the turrets, the yellow light played with the green oak leaves, as the sky paled to a turquoise. A bird or two sang overhead of promise. Promise that Severus wished he felt.

Hermione was released a day later, and Severus promptly cancelled his class the day she was well enough to attend, leaving a note on the door saying "Due to Personal Reasons" his class was cancelled for that day. Hermione had been teased by her friends (mostly Ginny) that she had been the reason they were free for an hour, and there was much rejoicing. For perhaps a week Severus and Hermione engaged in a strange dance where they both avoided eachother. Severus steered clear of the courtyard she favoured, the library, the hospital wing and anywhere near the portrait of the fat lady.

Hermione had the same idea. Only she had thought he was trying to seek her out. She seldom ate meals (not that she was often graced with an appetite anyway), and tried to steer clear of any place he knew she frequented. She had even skipped every one of his classes. She even had poor Shamus hand in her homework.

While the two were craftily dodging the other they found themselves walking down the corridor, neither paying attention to their surroundings, had collided, Hermione fell back on the stone floor as papers and books from both parties took to the air before falling down in an untamed mass of yellow parchment and books between them. Scrambling to pick up their papers without making eye-contact their hands touched.

Severus pulled his hand back hastily and locked eyes with Hermione. The touch of her cold hand brought back the horror of his dream. Staring into her eyes his heart fluttered and twisted in those cold little hands that paused in their fumbling. He wanted to tell her he was glad she was alright, and that he had been beside himself with worry, not knowing if she had gotten better since they'd last spoke had killed him, and he wanted to tell her how angry he was she'd been avoiding him, but most of all he wanted to tell her he missed her.

Hermione went back to fumbling the papers, trying to make neat piles of what was hers and what she didn't recognize. She tore her eyes from his intense gaze. He wasn't indifferent or anylitical, but there was an intense mix of emotions Hermione couldn't decipher. He seemed to be holding something back, but it frightened her she didn't know what.

"It's nice to see you're still among the living, Miss Granger," he spoke coolly, his suave tone unbroken by irritation that was clearly seen when she looked at him. "I won't accept Mr. Finnegan submitting your work any longer. I count four limbs and a head, you don't seem any less fit for class than you usually are."

"I had my reasons for not attending, sir."

A sadness that might have been well-concealed with anyone else touched her eyes, along with a hurt frustration. He followed a foolish urge part way through to lightly touch her face. He quickly pulled his hand back before he could make contact with her smooth, cold cheek. "And what of those reasons would I find acceptable?"

An exasperated Hermione grabbed her stack of papers and snapped upwards prepared to march away, only to waver from dizziness the change of level made. She stood with an uneasy expression that conveyed she felt a little pain and her hand wobbled out grasping for support.

"Miss Granger!" he snapped grabbing her shoulders in order to balance her. "Why the hell did you do that? You know you have low blood pressure!"

"It's not something I think about too much."

"Perhaps you should start," he hissed back at her. He set her down on the floor, sitting with her back to the wall, once she was sat in such away he felt she wasn't at risk of falling, he released her shoulders. He stood back up, staring down the girl. "I asked you not to be wandering around alone."

"I was on my way to meet someone," it was true enough, she'd asked Harry and Ron to meet her in one of the old forgotten rooms along the corridor later.

"If I leave you, will I find you laying here unconscious?" he asked, trying not to reveal how eager he was to leave. He wasn't sure if he wanted to wrap his arms around her or strangle her. It was best to leave before he did either.

"I'll be fine," she sighed, hiding her shaking hands. She held herself rigidly against the wall, afraid he'd see even though she was sitting she still wavered. She prayed her surroundings would stop spinning as she longed for the strength to stand and walk away.

"Who are you meeting?" he asked leaning against the wall.

"Harry and Ron," she replied.

"You couldn't manage to stay within_ their _company?" Snape rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger like an annoyed parent or baby-sitter. "You're trying to give me a heart-attack, aren't you?"

"I—"

"Hermione?" Harry gave a bewildered look to both of them, then he knelt by Hermione.

"Did she faint again?" Ron asked following behind Harry, concern and exasperation mixed with a mild anger as he looked from Hermione to Snape.

"No." Hermione sighed. "Yes," lied Snape at the same time.

"Don't tell me you're actually having trouble with choosing who you believe?" Hermione cried after watching Ron's puzzled expression fade to a skepitcal one aimed at Hermione. "Honestly!"

Harry helped Hermione to her feet, she wobbled slightly and gripped his shoulder tightly for balance. She couldn't stand the look in his green eyes, pity, anger and concern seemed to roll into one. She felt as though she might bubble over in anger when she saw Ron and Harry exchange the same looks her parents often did with eachother after her chemo-rounds.

"You two are best off not letting her alone. Had I not been here she'd have probably spent another three days unconscious."

"fear bomanta taobh amuigh de comhbhrón! Ta sibh ainnis!" she hissed under her breath.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Snape spoke through gritted teeth closing the space between her and him.

"Won't you have fun figuring that out!" she offered a cocky grin and rose an eyebrow challenging.

"It'll be easier than you think," he bent over her and spoke directly into her ear, "mo muirneach."

Hermione's eyes widened at the sound of some of the only Gaelic he knew. Severus returned her challenging smirk hoping she wouldn't call his bluff. She didn't, instead he saw her eyes focus on the two identical books laying discarded where they collided. She let go of Potter's shoulder and made for the books. Severus picked them up before she could bend over and give herself another dizzy spell.

"The little girl who just fainted shouldn't be rushing to change levels so quickly." He handed one of the books to her and quickly walked away before she could call him on his lie.

As he walked away he heard her shaking voice cry "bréagadóir!" Another word he understood... "Liar."

"What was all that about?" Ron asked as they made their way down the corridor.

"He's just being Snape. Arrogant, sadistic arse..." Hermione muttered untangling herself from Harry's "supporting" grip.

"To think Ginny seems to think he adores you!" Harry laughed. "If she'd seen that, I think she would change her mind."

"At least he cares enough to tell us you fainted," Ron said staring at her with an angry concern that she had been seeing all too much lately. "What reason would he have for lying to us?"

"Because he's a foolish man without sympathy and a miserable man."

"I'll agree with that!" Harry joked.

"Finally!" Hermione laughed. "He agrees with me! God does exist!"

"Not miracles?"

"If Ron ever agrees with me, I'll concede to miracles then."

"Gee, thanks, Hermione." Ron grumbled throwing an arm over her shoulders. "It's bad enough you've asked us to study, you have to insult me too?"

Hermione widened her eyes and snuggled into Ron's chest, much like her five-year-old cousin did when he was in trouble. "But I wub oo, Wan"

"I think the brain damage hasn't healed!" Ron laughed throwing her over his shoulder.

"Does this mean we can make her do our homework and she won't know we're taking advantage of her?" Harry laughed.

"Harry," Hermione said, swallowing her giggles. "Do you honestly want someone with brain damage to do your school work for you?"

"Good point, I'll stick with my sources."

"I'm sure the half-blood prince is about as brain damaged as I am." Hermione said signalling to Ron she wanted down.

"She's back alright," Ron groaned setting her down more gently than she was used to.

"I love you both so much," Hermione began with a deep breath, making eye contact with the two of them. "I don't want to see you guys pulled under by something that looks promising and regret it. I won't watch my best friends drown because they looked to the wrong lifeline. How do you know there's nothing harmful in the writing?"

"Harry's had the book for months, Hermione."

"That just means he hasn't triggered it, yet, Ron," Hermione turned to Harry. "What does Ginny think about it?"

"She doesn't know," Harry sighed.

"You should tell her about it, and about my suspiscions." Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "She has a right to know her boyfriend's willingly putting himself in danger."

"You mean just like we have a right to know if our best friend is putting herself in danger everytime she's left alone?" Ron snapped blue eyes narrowing.

"_Ron!_"

"He's right, Hermione," Harry agreed. "At this point I'm sure Snape knows more about you than we do. And you can't stand him."

"It's not my fault the man's stalking me!"

"Maybe we should start, eh?" Ron spat grabbing her arm. "Then we might actually know something about you!"

"We're all entitled to our secrets." Hermione sighed. "I don't keep many things from you, and I promise you I have very good reasons for what I do keep from you. You might as well give it a rest for a month or so and just ask Snape. I'm sure by then he'll have figured it out unless he leaves me alone. But if you respect me at all, you won't."

Silence over took the friends as Hermione held back the tears she thought of her letters. She wondered if she was mistaken in her wish to keep her lifeending at the age of twenty a secret. On closer consideration, she couldn't put them through what her family went through. If she slipped into obscurity as planned, leaving them with letters, it'd be a quicker grieving process than watching her waste away. Till then, Hermione wouldn't spend anymore of the little time she had left bickering with those she loved most.

"I don't understand her at all," Severus complained when Dumbledore brought her up. "One moment she's completely open with me, the next she's snapping at me because I asked the wrong question. As soon as her illness is brought to attention she completely shuts down. I don't understand how I'm supposed to help her when she refuses it."

Dumbledore chuckled as his eyes danced with amusement. "I'm not sure if you sound like an infatuated teenager or a distraught parent. Though it's clear to me you truly care about the girl."

Severus was flooded with memories of her enhaloed by the twilight, her laughter weaving through the air and her beautiful eyes staring into his with an unconditional sympathy. He loved her as much as he had loved Lily and had a deep need to take care of her. Damn her independence and pride...

"She's important enough to me," he then added a lie that would make his love of her acceptable, even though he could never convince himself of it, he could others. "She's the closest thing I'll ever have to a daughter."

The old man smiled and spoke wisely depitethe whimsy in his voice. "If you truly love her you'll set her free, if she reciprocates, she'll come back. If she doens't she was never yours in the first place."

Severus considered his words for a moment. His musing was interrupted by a petite girl clutching a green book tightly to her chest as chocolate curls floated around her. Hermione Granger was, despite his efforts, walking alone. He looked at how helpless she was, tiny, pale and bookish, he couldn't watch someone hurt her, let alone do it himself. It was then he realized his disturbing dream was just that, a silly dream. He was only causing more grief for both of them by avoiding her. He felt an involuntary smile creep upon his lips.

"Miss Granger!" he gestured for her to come over with his index finger. "Come hither, dear."

Hermione approached with caution, her face was mostly curious, but beneath knit brows her deep brown eyes held some anger. He hadn't seen her since they had collided a day ago. She clearly hadn't forgiven his lying to Potter and Weasley. "What'd I do?" she asked, her voice barbed, posture guarded.

"I was certain it was only yesterday I told you I don't want to see you alone."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Why can't you turn a blind eye? It should be easy enough for you."

"It 's not easy for any human being to just let a sick girl jeopardize herself," he set a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to re-establish the connection her was sure they shared the night he found her. "You need to be monitored."

"Thankfully the brain damage makes me blind to why I need to be stripped of my right to privacy," Hermione sang, trying not to snap at him.

"Hermione," Dumbledore interjected. "I think Professor Snape is just looking out for you."

"That's the problem, headmaster," Hermione pleaded. "He's looming over me so much I haven't space to breathe!"

"That's a problem I will leave you two with." And with this he walked away.

A silence passed between them before Hermione spoke. "I want to know what I did wrong." She said her eyes on the ground as she stood still, not bother to break free from his hand on her shoulder.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and lifted her chin lightly, a mistake on his part. An image of Hermione's tear-stained face from his dream flashed into his mind. He quickly retracted his hand and backed away from her. He poorly hid a shudder and looked at the confused girl opposite him.

"Your skins cold..." he offered pathetically.

"Like your demeanor," Hermione said curtly. "I don't like it when people make me feel like an idiot and walk away leaving me clueless about what i've done wrong."

Flames danced in her brown eyes as she stared up into his. The rest of her expression looked resigned, as if the anger was buried under her tiredness, even her once cautious posture slumped. He closed the gap he had made between them and lightly touched her arm. "I'm not walking away."

"Then you can tell me what I've done wrong." She shrugged from his touch.

"Why do think you've done something wrong? Guilty conscious perhaps?"

"I must've done something to deserve being stripped of my right to privacy..." she walked closer to him and took up her defensive posture. "Did I piss you off? Somehow offend you? I don't get it! Did I do something to hurt you? What'd I do to make you feel the need to do this to me? Any explaination would be good since you've condemned me already!"

"I never condemned you, Miss Granger," he once again touched her shoulder, but she allowed it. "At least ,no more than your illness already had. I happen to care a great deal about you, which means that your physical health comes before any priviledge you think you're entitled to."

"Privacy's enstated in the British Charter-Doctrine of rights. I know, I've read it."

"Last I checked I'm legally permitted to go to any lengths for the safety of a minor in my care."

"And since when was I in your care?"She placed her hands on her hips and raised a challenging eyebrow.

"September first, nineteen-ninety-seven. And every September first you return here you are put in my care and the care of all of the other professors here."

With a sigh he watched her coil inward as she brought a tendril up to her lips and began to chew on it. He could see that she knew she was cornered, yet she still thought of excuses or comebacks. After removing her hair she sighed again, folding her arms across her chest. "You know, I don't see anyother professors stalking students?"

"We keep a very close eye on our students, Miss Granger. It just so happens, you need someone physically present to catch you, literally."

"Why does that someone need to be you?" she asked. "Why not those I'm with most the time anyway? In case you haven't noticed I follow Harry and Ron around like a dog on a leash."

"I don't see either of them with you now," he looked over in either direction of the narrow corridor, craning his neck. "Pity. I had hoped telling them you'd fainted would make them want to be with you constantly."

"At least now I know there was a reason," she grumbled.

"You assumed I didn't have one?" he asked not surprised but a tad insulted. "I think you'll find I don't do things arbitrailily."

"I figured as much," she sighed with an eye roll. "Are we done here?"

A tight grip held her arm, making Hermione look to the pale, bony hand clutching her arm above her elbow. When she turned her head back she found a long white face, hooked nose mere inches from her own and black eyes burning. His typically suave and velvety voice was edged with blades when he said. "Don't you _ever_ roll your eyes at me again."

"Sorry," she said quickly taking a step back from him.

He straightened himself and took on his cool, calm demeanor once more, though embers of anger failed to fade in his coal eyes with the rest of the flame. Everyone described his eyes as hollow, cold, black tunnels that go on forever without a spark of sympathy. Certainly that was how Hermione described them for her first year of knowing him, but she noticed something in her second year when the writing was on the wall...a spark of life she'd noticed since.

"Where are you going anyway?"

"Library..." she spoke hesitantly.

"What a coincidence, I was just heading there myself."

"I'll see you," she said walking down the opposite of the way she was originally headed.

"The library's this way," Impatience ebbed his voice.

"I changed my mind," she shrugged. "I think I'll be off to the owlery."

"I have some letters I've been neglecting to send out myself."

"I think I'm actually headed in a different direction."

"Which is?" he asked raising an eyebrow daring her to go on.

"East tower."

"And now I just have to follow you to see what on earth makes you want to go there."

"The six-foot-three shadow might have something to do with it," she sighed without any attempt to hide her feelings. "Is there anything I can say or do to that won't end with you stepping on my heels?"

"I highly doubt it."

Hermione's eye caught the drentched window behind him, rivers streamed down the glass's outer panes. She felt her mouth turn up slightly at the corners. "It's such a nice day. I think I'd rather just enjoy the weather."

Snape rolled his eyes and led her to the window, practically dragging her by the hand. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Miss Granger, but it's pouring."

"Liquid sunshine, Professor," she said with a slight sincerety. "It's all a matter of perspective."

"I'm not letting a sick girl stay out in the rain."

"If you don't start leaving me alone," She began turning around to face him leaning against the window sill ignoring that the man who was leaning over her had her cornered. "I'll make making your life a living hell a project."

He leaned in uncomfortably placing a hand on the window sill, his warm breath on her skin made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, the smug smirk and raised eyebrows made her stomach churn in disgust. He was so happy to mess with her. "You'll have plenty opportunities before the end of the year because we won't have much time apart."

"I'm almost hoping you make good on that threat. I don't want to think I'm scot-free and realize the vulture's closer than I thought. But know this; you're done messing with me."

"I've barely started."

"I'm not putting up with your games!" she snapped. "Don't corner me."

He eyed her with an undecipherable expression, his mouth hung open slightly and his eye brows were knit, his black eyes held her with an intense gaze, all anger seemed to be forgotten. He raised a hand gently to her face and placed his open hand on her cheek. His face drew closer and Hermione's body felt rigid, it was easier to be angry with him than confused by him. She was an open vulnerable squirrel and he was a predator, but she was fascinated by him, even considered him a beautiful man.

He let go of her hand and cheek then provided her with enough space to breath and more. She moved in the direction of the library not pausing. He stood there for a moment and looked out the window. She wasn't too far before he spoke: "And where are you going?"

"Library," she said shortly. "I told you that."

"And I told you—"

"You can follow me if you want, but I'm not waiting around for you. I've used too much patience and wasted my time."

The library was relatively empty. A group of students sat at a table and beckoned Hermione. She approached. Each of them were knitting and talking about their Charms text. Lonbottom looked strange with fuzzy pink yarn as he waved to Hermione. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott seemed to be working on an inter connected mass of coloured yarn. Luna Lovegood smiled and set aside her blue yarn.

"Are you joining the knitting club?"

"Afraid not, Miss Lovegood," Severus answered sitting beside Hermione no sooner than he could explain he caught Hermione mouthing to Lovegood and the laughter it instilled in both girls.

"A growth, Granger?" he asked slightly amused.

Hermione restrained from rolling her eyes as she dug out a colourful in-progress blanket. "If you would rather explain it go for it, I could use an explanation myself."

"For an undecided amount of time I will be accompanying her. If you want a detailed explantation, Miss Granger, I'm willing to provide pending you let me explain."

"How's the unity blanket coming, Hannah and Susan?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence.

Severus watched Hermione work away on her child-sized blanket, the only sounds out of her were the furious clicking of clashing needles and the occaisional response to a questions asked by the others on the subject matter. But her eyes never left her knitting. He watched her finish each row with impressive speed as she bit her lip.

"Stop staring at me," she finally spoke to him, but never took her eyes of her work. "If you're bored grab some yarn."

He did, grabbing one of the unused balls from the table and disregarded needles. "I wouldn't be so curt if I were you."

No response. Hermione dug a book out and wrote a quick note, she passed it to a flustered Longbottom, his skin now as pink as the yarn he was using. He then held it under the table and Susan Bones glanced down at it after being nudged. She then showed the note to Lovegood who folded it and handed it to back to Hermione. She ripped it and put the scraps in her bag.

"Don't do that." He stared at the girl who finally looked back at him, her expression more detatched than he was used to.

"Just because I don't want you to know what it is doesn't mean it has anything to do with you." She dug the scraps and put them together in front of him.

The scraps were illegible, but he knew as well as she did that was easily fixed. He debated it, but knew if he wanted her trust he'd have to atleast pretend to trust her. He pushed the scraps aside and lightly touched her arm. He debated leaving her with her friends, they could certainly handle her, but he knew once they parted ways she'd be just as alone as she was when she injured her head.

"Did anyone read those lyrics?" Luna asked the group setting aside her knitting to pull out a piece of parchment.

"Read it?" Hermione laughed. "It struck such a chord with me I learnt to play it."

"We've all read it, I'm sure,"Hannah Abbot said happily. "Susan pretty much lit up when I suggested the lyrics."

"I didn't find much meaning to it," Longbottom admitted sheepishly. "The narrator just seems to be whinning about her lover keeping an eye on her."

Susan Bones nodded as she finished a row. "She's definatley bitching, but Ithink she has grounds to."

"It's also about her lover molding her to some role she doesn't want to fit in." Hermione spoke. "he's like the lovers in "painted viel" . He wants her in this place and dominates her without giving her space to breathe."

"And he wants her under him as a patriarch." Luna agreed. "And in other ways probably."

"The sexism's completely imagined, you two," Susan said. "She's being suffocated by a controlling man, but that's it."

"I agree with Sue," Hannah nodded. "He's constantly on her heels, uses up her time, isolates her and does try and to make her a certain kind of girl to him. The song's about her desire to escape a controlling man. Nothing more."

"I get the impression the poet thinks all men are controlling," Hermione purposed. "And it's not an opinion I'm entirely against."

"Men are rather controlling over women," Luna sided wholly with Hermione. "I've wondered myself if they exit the womb hating power in women."

"According to my mother they do." Hermione said.

"Men do tend to be more controlling than women," Susan agreed.

Hannah sighed looking at the two males at the table. He noted it was a glance at his hand still on Hermione's arm that made her decision. "Men are controlling."

"Older men are." Longbottom qualified.

Then men were unanimously decided to be assholes and other sorts of degrading sexist slurs were tossed around the table. Hermione's excessive quoting her mother made him want to either meet her and set the record on men straight, or take Hermione away from her permanatly. He leaned more toward the latter. He hoped his suspicions they were only trying to get rid of him were right.

"You sound just as sexist as the men you're complaining about, Granger." Severus sighed and looked at the girl.

"If you think I'm bad, you should speak to my mother." Hermione's laugh was forced.

"I would love to. Someone needs to explain that telling a six-year-old girl all men are domineering idiots isn't acceptable."

"The damage is done."

"The male company you typically keep certainly doesn't help. But I don't think the damage can't be undone." Severus turned to Lovegood. "Can I see the poem?"

She handed it to him. She and Hermione exchanged confused looks confirming his suspicions. He didn't know to be relieved Hermione's mind wasn't as warped as she was saying or if he was upset about being so unwanted.

"This could be applied to a father or mother, you're all assuming it's a lover." He said after reading it. "And the sex of the parent or lover is never mentioned. You're assuming it's a male, but I think Granger's proved a female can shape a female just as much as a male."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Your mother's words seem to influence you very typically do," he then placed a hand on her shoulder. "I suppose it's not your fault your mother never let you figure things out for yourself and forced her beliefs on you as you were developing."

"If you say anything like that about my mother again, we're gonna have issues."

"We already do, Miss Granger."

"I'm exhausted," Hermione immediately stood up adruptly. She wobbled slightly but steadied herself on the back of her chair and wrung from his attempt s to help her steady. "Neville,will you take me to Gryffindor tower?"

"Of course," Longbottom packed his things quickly and no sooner than he was by her side she began to exit the library with great haste.

In the Gryffindor common room Neville and Ron bombarded her with questions. Ginny and Harry sat patiently as she described their most recent encounter nearly in tears.

"He won't stop harassing me!" Hermione cried. "I don't know what I did to make him avoid me last week, but I need to do it again."

"I'd still like to know why he thinks it's bad to leave alone," Harry said. "We find that out we can keep him away from you."

"It's because I faint alot."she spoke bitterly as she felt her eyes brim over. "Even if I surround myself with you guys he'll still hunt me down to make sure I'm not on my own. Doesn't that awful man have anything better to do?"

"Maybe if you just told Snape what was wrong with you the mystery would wear off?" Ginny suggested. "The man, like you, loves puzzles, and until he finds out what your illness is, you'll be his puzzle."

"What is wrong with you anyway?" Ron asked sounding irritated.

It hurt Hermione to not tell them. It had to kill them to know she wasn't healthy, but it'd hurt them more if they knew about the cancer. The cancer was gone, but her friends would forever fear its return, she wouldn't submit them to it. She wanted to, but she couldn't bring herself to tell them about her heart transplant...without reason, she was ashamed of it.

Hermione decided unless the questioning stopped she would just have to put up with Snape stalking her.


	10. Chapter 10: Outside Perspectives

_ear Phoebe,_

_Nothing lasts forever, unfortunalty this is also true of people. I regret that I'll not live to see Elizabeth grow up, she's such a sweet girl, you'll be the best mother to her. You have your doubts, but she'll do well if you raise her, you're so brilliant and kind, how could she not turn out well?_

_Do you remember when we were little and I was hospitalized for my first round of chemo-therapy? They told me that I wouldn't live past the year, Dad cried and Momma kicked and screamed demanding more doctors to look at me. I was so scared, they didn't think we were awake when they told them. I remember after they left I began to weep, but you held my hand and said "I'm older, I get to go first." I think of that every day, you were eight when you said that. You were so frightened yourself, but your concern was comforting your distraught little sister. You were always so wise beyond your years, I doubt I hid it well, but I was always jealous of you. You always knew what to do._

_Now it's my turn to impart the wisdom of my years to you in this time of change. You're married, you're a new mum, and you're struggling with how to cope with everything. Mark's a great guy, you chose well, he'll guard you like you've guarded me. Elizabeth's such a sweet, smiling child and she has your eyes. Those green eyes have seen more than anyone else will ever see. Encourage her to help others who aren't blessed with your eyes. _

_Now I'll share the wisdom of all my sixteen years to Elizabeth, what I've found out the hard way might save her some tears._

_Tell her that if she wants love all she has to do is give it, tell her not to let opportunities pass her by, she'll regret it if she doesn't. Tell her not to let the hardships in life to drag her down as they did me. I spent too many hours weeping when I could have been laughing. Tell her to be easy on herself, but to push herself to realize her dreams, life's too short not to. She doesn't have to break her back to please anyone but herself, I've lost too much trying to please everyone. Tell her to love with all her heart, but tread with caution when it comes to boys. Tell her to keep her secrets safe, but choose someone to be open with, being so guarded has caused me more grief than I care to mention. Elizabeth is a wonderful, beautiful and special child, remind her of it when she needs it. And tell everyone you love that you love them everyday! I wish I did. Elizabeth, you won't remember me, but take my advice, tell your momma you love her everyday and respect her wisdom, she can help you if you let her. She loves you very much and remember as you get older, she will too._

_Pheobe, my bestfriend, my guide, my confidant, my sister. I love you more dearly than words can express and I will always be looking out for you from the heavens. I'll be your shadow, the sun dancing across the ocean and I'll be the daffodils blooming in the spring. I'll be alive in your memories so please don't cry for me. Follow the advice I told you to tell Elizabeth. Take a breath every now and then, find your truths, be selfish, be sacrificing, keep your promises and just be you. You'll be alright so long as you remember there's beauty in the weakness as there is in strength._

_Time is a fickle thing, we only have so much and we can never get it back. Nobody knows how much time they have left, but we can make the most of it. Love with everything you have and let those you love know. All you have is all they have, which is the present. Don't let them go before you've told them how you truly feel. Don't leave apologies, forgiveness and i love yous unsaid. I have and I regret it. You're the wisest, strongest, kindest person I have ever known. Please, Pheobe, don't you ever lose that._

_IF you lay fresh flowers on my grave know that the time you spend talking to my headstone you can spend watching the sunrise with your husband and daughter. See the beauty in this world and it's people, but never overlook the beauty inside you._

_Tell Momma that I love her and not to cry, my illness made me strong and my death isn't the end for her. I'm still with her. Tell Dad I love him and that I will be in every note of every song you two play together. Tell Henry to love his parents and to grow up slowly. Let Crystal and Jewel that your sister is all you have and to cherish eachother as we have. As for Aunt Colleen, Uncle Tom, Aunt Dana and Uncle Jonathan, tell them my life couldn't be complete without them. Tell Nana I'm sorry she had to burry me, but I'd rather this than the other way around._

_Tell them and yourself that I am happy where I am, I miss you, but will be with you whenever I can. My illness was necessary, it made me appreciate so much, and brought a family in shambles together. If this is all my life does I couldn't be happier. God has chosen this and He, despite my many accusations, doesn't act out of malice. In every seed there's a perfect plant and mine will bloom through your actions._

_Now another thing I remembered from when we were little is when you were tired of reading to me every night and had me tell you stories I made up. You loved them so much to the point you've been telling me to write them since. Well, in this book are five short stories, the rest of the pages are for Nanna, you, Momma and Elizabeth when she's old enough. Tell these stories to your daughter ad have her tell them to her children. We all live beyond our deaths._

_I love you very much._

_All my love,_

_Hermione._

Severus couldn't believe what he was reading when he opened what he thought was merely a book of Victorian poetry. Hermione _knew_ she was dying and hadn't said a word to anyone. He didn't want to believe it, as he re-read the letter to her sister. Hermione couldn't be dying, she swore again and again she was cured, someone that sick couldn't lie about that. He was certain she wouldn't do that. If not to him, she would tell somebody she was dying. She was so young, but that didn't matter, his mother was barely forty when ALS finally won. Hermione's disease was clearly just as bad.

Tears sprang to his eyes unexpectedly as he thought of it. He couldn't bear to imagine her wasting away as she lost all her physical abilities. He imagined her cold, fragile body laying in a hospital bed too weak to lift her head. It made him shudder. He dried his eyes and with a deep breath scoured the pages for a hint on what to expect. He had qualms with betraying her trust when she was dying, but if there was something in those pages he could use to save her he didn't care.

Only one story dealt with disease. A girl Hermione's age was the main character's sister who was dying of Leukemia. The character, Loreena's, problems began when she began fainting and bruises appeared on her skin without impact. In the end Loreena dies of the disease, but her mother and sister cope remarkably well. Hermione had mentioned chemo in her letter, could she have that? With another shudder he closed the book. He had to talk to her at some point about it.

No sooner then he came to the conclusion he heard a rapping at his door. He gathered his composure and, book still in hand he answered the door to see Hermione with Seamus Finnegan standing at her side. She had a small green book in her hands and seemed to shrink next to Finnegan, or possibly shrank in front of him. She seemed to look for signals in his face betraying he'd read her writing. She didn't seem to find anything as she simply held the book out. "I think there's been a bit of a mix-up."

"Yes," he nodded as he took the book back and handed her back the other. "Perhaps you should pay better attention to where you are walking to avoid this happening again."

Hermione held herself with a rigidness as a sarcastic smile found her lips, her brown eyes seemed to glow with an anger. "Why, of course I will, Professor. Afterall, the whole thing must've been my fault, so I'll be sure to correct it. Thank you so much for the helpful advice, sir."

"You're very welcome, my dear," he spoke with the same falseness she did thanking her awful attitude and Finnegan's presence for keeping him from throwing his arms around her. "Afterall, it is my job to impart my knowledge on you precious little things." He added pinching her cheek.

Hermione shuddered but he wasn't certain if it was his touch that made her shudder or Finnegan's hand on her shoulder. It seemed to him she chose the lesser of two evils and chose to have another student with her at all times. He imagined she regretted her choice. The life of a caged bird wasn't for her.

"Thank you for getting this back to me," Hermione spoke without the falseness and her smile faded. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

The two turned away at this and began to leave but a hand clapped on Hermione's shoulder and his voice floated over her head. "A word, Granger?"

At this she felt a heavy sinking feeling. She'd had Seamus agree to follow her around the castle to keep him off her back. Seamus proved to be both worse and better than Snape. Seamus didn't back away when he knew without a doubt she needed it, but he also didn't ask questions. Snape tracked her down tenaciously, but after expressing her complaints he'd give her a day, Seamus didn't give her an hour. She'd thought by sacrificing every moment of her life would spare her from his questions.

"Alone..." he scowled at Seamus who took her hand.

"I'll meet you back in the commons, Seamus," Hermione wrung from his grip easily.

"I'll see you."

After he left Snape ushered her into his office and shut the door behind him. She turned to face him, he returned her confused gaze with an exhausted one. He seemed so tired, his weary black eyes had dark circles under them, his long, greasy black hair was now matted, his tall slender body seemed weaker, and his skin seemed even paler than it had been. The man in shambles was a result of his chasing her around. He knew this, she knew this.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"I'm fine," he walked up to her and placed his hand on her forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine." She said backing away from him. "You look like you haven't been sleeping much."

"And sleep avoids you as you avoid me," he noted throwing a blanket over her shoulders. "I half wonder if that contributes to your inability to be warm."

"It's my circulation," she sighed taking the blanket off her shoulders and folding it neatly. "Thank you," she handed it back to him. "I'm used to the way I sleep anyway."

"Being accustomed to torture doesn't make it any better for you. And no amount of glamours will fool me into thinking you're healthy." He held her face in his hands as he examined her, perhaps for tell-tale signs she was ill. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

"I'm getting the medical attention I need. I wouldn't worry so much if I were you. The worry's made you sick."

"I'm a grown man, Granger," he began letting go of her face. "I understand perfectly what excessive worry does to a person. Don't worry about it."

"That would be hypocrisy," she noted in a matter of fact voice.

"Sit down before you faint," he returned her matter-of-factedness. "Your attitude is simply appalling."

Hermione sat down, but her obiedience wouldn't be unaccompanied with another attempt to push him away. "Does this not please you, sir?"

"It doesn't please you either," he sighed sitting across from her. "You don't want to act like this, I've seen how it pains you to act this way with Potter and Weasley. I'm beginning to think it also pains you to act this way with me. If you are trying to push me away, I assure you it won't work."

Hermione sighed as she looked down. "Why am I here?"

"I've told our headmaster that I'd keep an eye on you," he tried to re-establish eye-contact but her head remained bent as one hand covered her forehead and eyes. "You have a good deal of us concerned—"

"At this rate," Hermione began finally making eye-contact, "I'd give you people my own soul if you'd ignore me."

"Seems strangely out of character for someone who calls attention to herself on a daily basis."

"And what do you know of my character? Tell me what's in character for me, Professor? You seem to just have us all pinned so well!" Hermione sighed and hit her head against the hard wood of the desk, making a thud. "Ah, what the hell, it doesn't matter anyway."

"I can't tell you what's in or out of your character these days. You're not the little girl who walked into my class room five years ago. Nor can you seem to keep the same mood for a minute."

"We all have our breaking points..."

"What are you talking about?" he asked taking her hand.

"Either something or nothing..."

"I thought you quit Trelawny's class, Granger?"

Hermione sighed as she raised her head and took her hand back. "I'm beginning to think my insomnia is affecting... That was another way of saying I don't remember what I was getting to."

Severus examined the pale face before him, her eyes flickered in the light with a million emotions. She looked tired, frustrated, sad, angry, and confused as she looked at him waiting for a reply. If it wasn't for her eyes, her expression might have conveyed nothing. He recognized the expression from his mother...

"_I'm fine, Sev," said his mother had been found lying on her kitchen floor._

"_When will stop this, Mum?" he asked helping her up. _

_At eighteen he stood taller than his frail mother. Both of them were tall and slender, as well as pale, but Sirena had been these things to the extreme. White streaked black hair framed a chalky face, the deterroration of her muscles caused her body to be gaunt, almost every bone in her body was visible. The warm smile that warmed his heart as a child made him cringe. It was false, a poor mask to cover the hopelessness. _

"_I'm taking my medicine, I'm working my muscles. I'll be fine, darling." She smiled weakly as she tried not to lean on him. He knew she didn't believe what she told him. The mixture of emotion in her eyes told him so. _

"_Working your muscles does so little when it's your brain taking away your ability to control them. Even now, your hands are shaking. He doesn't take care of you, you won't last long here. Let me take care of you."_

_Sirena looked up at him and shook her head. "Your father just doesn't know how to cope...until he accepts it, I can take care of myself. Need I remind you, you're the child?"_

"_You are so difficult. Just come to St. Mungo's with me, they'll care for you better than the muggle-hospitals will. Our medicines are far from cures, but it'll be less painful."_

"_Severus, stop!" his mother tried to break from his grip, which tightened in his desperation tosave his mother._

"_Stop fighting me!" he shouted drawing the shrinking weak woman closer._

"_Dammit, Severus!" she screamed at him for the first time, her eyes were flooded with a mix of anger and sadness. "I refuse to die where my husband can't see me!"_

"_Die?" he gasped letting her go. "I—"_

"_It was envitable, Severus...ALS will always run it's course, magic or mundane treatments only prolong the process."_

"_It'll buy you enough time—"_

"_Dr. Harding gives me less than three months," the anger had waned in her eye, but the confusion, sadness and exhaustion stayed. "I would sooner die without my son's scorn..."_

"_You won't die anytime soon, Mum," he sighed wrapping his arms around her. "If I have to move heaven and earth to find a cure I will."_

"_I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd never accept it. I need to make peace with dying." The anger returned in her black eyes with disappointment. The disappointment in her tear filled eyes killed him. She shouldn't have expected him to accept this._

_He walked away from his mother's house with a heavy heart. At the enlightened age of eighteen he hadn't known the next time he'd see her would be the weeks she wasted away in a hospital bed._

Hermione's eyes were the same, the absence of tears didn't change this. She was hiding the severity of her condition because she knew no one would accept it. She couldn't make peace with dying if no one let her. He assumed she thought she was "protecting" her loved ones from the truth. He couldn't let her die...any lesson he learned from letting his mother down told him she needed the support of someone, someone who knew. If she knew how much she meant to people perhaps it'd give her more reason to hold on.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, alerting him to the fact he had been holding her face in his hands and staring at her blankly. His eyes felt moist, but he thanked the stars they hadn't brimmed over.

" Are you?"

"What? You're gonna answer all my questions with questions, now?"Hermione sighed.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"God forgive the fact I'm concerned!" she slapped her forehead. "Will you answer my question?"

"Is something wrong?" he let go of her face and leaned in close to her.

"What's wrong with you?"

Severus sighed shaking his head. The last thing she needed was this. "I'm fine. Though I'd be lying if I said you aren't driving me mad."

Confusion now dominanted her eyes. "How do I drive you mad?"

He again rested a palm on her cheek. "In more ways than you could possibly imagine."

"I'm afraid I've had that affect on people for a while." She sighed with both guilt and exhaustion. "I'm sorry."

"No witty retorts?"

"I've probably slept an hour through this whole week. My brain's focused on other things like walking and breathing."

"Maybe you should do something aboutthat?"

"I am, don't worry about it."

"And what are you doing about it, might I ask?"

"I have my ways." She was willing to drop it at that, but then she saw his disbelief and his mouth open as if he were about to suggest something. "Even then, I'm not quite sure it would help if you offered a cure."

"You're really fond of that word aren't you?" he asked. "I've never seen someone use the word 'cure' so much. I'm beginning to think that your trying to convince yourself with repetition."

"There's nothing to convince myself of..." Hermione stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Are we done here?"

She felt hands clap on her shoulders to steady her. She had hoped he didn't notice her wavering, but she hadn't hid it well enough. Since her transplant hasty exits were taken away, she would have to accept that.

"Once you can stand on your own you can leave." He sat her down in the chair.

Hermione nervously played with her hair and brought a tendril up to her mouth when she felt his eyes on her to keep from squirming. She stared awkwardly at her feet noting the cracks in the grey stone, the cracks spread from her feet like wings on a bird, each crack was a vein. Shadows played on the floor from the fading twilight coming through the window. As the sun's positions changed the shadows of mundane things such as furniture and her own shadow became creatures of strange and mythical origins looking to heal her and destroy her. The creatures were blotted out by one large shadow behind her.

"Either you're avoiding any chance of eye-contact or you think your feet are very fascinating."

Hermione looked up at the voice's owner, black eyes bore into hers with a concerned curiosity..and something else it seemed. "Have you ever noticed how things change dramatically with different lighting?" She looked back down. "The cracks in the floor are like viens in a living creature, life pulsing inside it as the changing lights that stream through the window fill the crevices making the veins' life force. It's very interesting."

"Are you—"

Hermione slowly got up from her chair. "I think I'm good to go, sir."

"Of course, Miss Granger," he nodded, confusion still present on his face. "Just be careful."

"Am I ever not?"

And with that the girl was gone. He didn;t get anywhere, he didn't know if he should blame his beating around the bush, or if Hermione's queer behaviour was to blame. He could have been more blunt, but it seemed insensitive to ask someone if they have a cancer...even he wouldn't cross that boundry.

He looked down at the cracks in the floor. Dim light filed the jagged, thin crevices, Hermione had compared the lighted cracks to veins, but he saw a jumbled confusing map that was supposed to tell him where to go. He couldn't read the directions as he stared at the cracks.

_That's because there's nothing to read. Why do you always point out these stupid things, Hermione?_ He rolled his eyes at the foolish thing and left his office. If he was quick enough he might catch her. And if not he needed the air.

Leaving the dungeons he gave up on catching the girl, she must've cleared a good distance while he stared at the cracks. He made his way to the small courtyard he had begun to favour with a million thoughts coursing through his head. Was it leukemia making her so ill? Was she honestly dying? Did anyone else know? How long did she have? He wished he had answers to the questions he kept coming up with. He wondered if he was more of an idiot to let her out of his sight or to get close to her in the first place. She was a strange creature he felt compelled to follow. And she was one he needed to approach her with caution or she'd flee.

Leaning by the archway he saw that strange creature sitting on the stone bench beneath the leafy oak with a large book laying across her lap. She was muttering lowly as she wrote on a notebook she held above the book, but loudly enough for him to hear it. It was odd to see her so tranquil while conscious. He smiled with slight amusement when he saw her lips moving. He half-wished she'd mutter loud enough for him to hear her. Quickly decided he'd rather just watch her. She was in a peaceful state, he hadn't seen this since her fall, she'd always been too high-strung when she knew of his prescence. Part of him wanted to just leave the girl alone, another was deeply fascinated by annoying know-it-all, a bookworm who was entirely too sensitive and had a stubborn streak as wide as an ox-cart. And how could he forget her over-developed sense of morality creating an out of place feminist and an advocate of house-elves.

Ron walked down with Seamus wondering discussing a novel Hermione urged them to read. Well, they were more discussing why Hermione liked reading something so difficult to interpret when they saw Snape standing by an open archway, staring out into a courtyard as if entranced. Ron then remembered they were looking for something that Snape had been fascinated with lately.

They approached the archway only to have a long arm cut them off their entry. In the courtyard, sure enough, was Hermione who was simply writing in an old notebook..

On the side of the bench she pulled out a small book and quill. Setting her ink beside her she dipped her quill in the ink and began to write. She wrote lightly with a delicacy and a passion, she seemed as though she were in a trance. She wasn't in that courtyard, she was elsewhere, she was in her own world. She left that world when she looked to the side to see three unwelcomed on-lookers. Ron felt his ears flush as he prepared himself for what ever she'd say to him.

Hermione lidded her ink and shoved her things in her bag then slung it over her shoulder. She marched over to them, eyes ablaze, her tiny posture held up straight and indignant. The party of men broke the feminists independant moment of peace. They were sure to get a lecture on how sexist they were all being. Snape would deny it and remind her she's suffering from some illness that for some reason requires her to be monitored. Then, like any time anyone points out her illness all hell would break loose. Ron wouldn't be able to go through it with being dragged into taking Hermione's side and then being told why it meant he was a lousy friend to her by Snape. The two would groan and roll eyes, throw sarcastic remarks around then separate only to do it again.

"I am breaking some sort of law or school rule that I wasn't aware of?" Hermione asked practically shaking in anger.

"I was merely coming here to sit," Snape began raising his hand to her cheek. "I can't be reproached for enjoying music, Granger. I just knew you'd stop if I entered your field of vision."

"Really, you know me so well, Mr. Too-dull-to-shock?" Hermione scoffed setting Ron aback. This was completely out of character for her. But he couldn't blame her when he had been stalking her.

He was now rubbing her cheek lightly, almost unnoticeably, with his thumb and his free hand found her shoulder. "Of course, Little-Miss-Know-it-all."

The scene made Ron cringe. How could she not say anything? Ron walked closer and took hold of Hermione's arm and drew her closer to him. "Hold your under-age female students, there's no way that could ever be misconstrued as sexual harassment!"

"And grabbing her definitely has no negative connotations," Snape replied smugly letting go of her. "Detention, Weasley."

"What for?" Ron asked, regrettably with the sadistic hope of making him squirm.

"Let's forget about your groundless accusation for now and just look at the fact you grabbed a fellow student." Snape smirked. "I can't condone that kind of violent behaviour, now can I?"

"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes. "—"

"Don't you start!" Ron groaned. "If you had actually come back instead of running off—"

"Don't tell me how stupid and irresponsible I've become, Ron." She huffed. "I'm well aware."

There was a silence among the four, she started shaking and rubbing her arms. Ron noticed her lips were as purple as the highest layer in the sky outside the archway. Ron noted Snape had reached out for her but stopped when he remembered the company they had. But he was the only to ask her if she was alright.

"It's getting late, it's cold," she looked at with a wan smile. "Let's go to the commons, or really anywhere, I'm so cold here."

"Of course, Hermione," Ron said taking her by the hand.

"Am I a child or an invalid?" Hermione asked taking her hand back. "Don't hold my hand, I'll make it there without dropping."

"Good luck with that, Granger."

The three walked to the commons and Hermione had been silent the entire walk while Seamus reminded her how serious he thought her illness must have been if she shared a hospital room with his mother over the summer. Ron wasn't sure if he felt sorry for her or not. Since he was poisoned on his seventeenth birthday he had come to the conclusion he liked her, but she had been such a pain in the ass. The mystery illness made her even more of one.

Everyone who knew something about her being ill treated her differently. Ron only saw that she was fainting a lot. She couldn't be seriously ill if that was her only symptom, yet Snape acted like she was dying, Seamus wasn't much better, but his mother's heart condition gave him an excuse.

He wondered if Ginny and Luna were more intune with reality than he thought when they assumed he genuinely cared for her. It was odd to see the way the two acted, even disturbing. He couldn't tell what sort of relationship the two had, but he didn't like it.


	11. Chapter 11: No Longer Unspoken

_Four years. That operation gave me four years and I've no clue how to handle it. I'm glad I no longer have cancer, but what I thought was a cure is ruining my life. I'm starting to get chest pains again, like before the operation. Dr. Cavanaugh warned me this might happen. _

_The question is, is my body rejecting the heart or has my cancer returned? If either happens I don't know what I'll do. The peace effort requires more attention than I've been giving it. But I can never seem to shake Snape for more than a minute. I've still no clue where he stands, no matter how much I want to trust him._

_He's smart, and painfully insightful, though sometimes I think that he thinks my illness is mental! I'd sooner have someone like that on our side. Maybe if he truly is I'll see peace in the wizardring world. But he's a gradual steel frost who'll numb me if I were to let him in. I'll be damned if I let him know of my foolish girlish impulses!_

_What am I doing here? Can someone who faints daily really help with the war? Can I help Harry defeat Voldemort, or is that just a sick girl's desire to change the world before she leaves? I'm a burden to my family and my friends at this point. Sometimes I just feel like abandoning my guitar and my books and just spend my lonely hours watching the leaves on an oak blow in the soft wind._

_After I come back from Canada I won't spend another moment resting. I'll be damned if Elizabeth is part of the same role. My niece will only know peace. Momma, Dad and Phoebe won't cry over the war weighing their hearts though it's a world away._

_I'll act as though I still have my four years, I have to have those four years!_

Hermione put her diary away and dug out her sister's wedding gift. She had little time to finish the stories. _I have little time to finish anything._

_Why am I doing this?_ Severus asked himself mentally as he took Draco to the forest. _Why am I aiding in the attempt to kill a man who had been my closest friend?_

The Dark Lord stood before them and Severus eased his mind. Any sign of unease would very well lead to his death. The tall, thin man was deformed with snake-like face, his eyes were a sinister red, and his frame was bony. Anyone else with these features would be ill, but Voldemort stood tall and strong, ready to kill whoever and to take pleasure in it.

"And how has our new-comer been doing, Severus?" the disgusting man asked.

"There have been a few blunders in his subtle attempts to get rid of the old man," Severus said in a matter-of-fact voice. "M'Lord."

"I understand, Severus," he sighed touching his face. "I suppose this is what happens when we ask child to do a man's job."

A knot formed in his stomach as he held up his hand to silence Draco. If the boy couldn't kill him, he prayed the task wouldn't be his. He would have a hell of a time secretly sabotaging his own murder attempt. He could never kill Dumbledore. The thought would have made him cringe if he weren't surrounded by Death Eaters. "He couldn't have anticipated the mishap with the necklace or the sweets. The plan was so convoluted it had a thin chance for success, m'Lord."

"I know, Severus," his red eyes lit up with child-like joy as his gravelly voice sang. "That's why we must be more direct!" his thin hands clapped as he stopped over to speak to Draco. "This is why on the last day of May you will kill him directly by seeking him out during the night and you will kill him directly!"

Severus held himself rigid desperate for the meeting to end so he could warn the man who taught him everything he knew.

"The Muggles and Mudbloods are spreading like a cancer," Voledemort announced making Severus sick to his stomach as a thought of Hermione came to mind. "But my ascension is at hand! Soon the world will be ours and rid of this filth!"

Cheers erupted into what would be a silent night in the forest. The leafy trees stood eerily still around the circle of black robed men and women, the night was dead silent as the stars burning above. His heart had been just as dead, the only thing that had mattered to him for so long, protecting Lily's son, was about to come to an end, he prayed to whatever force was out there it would end one way rather than the other. Until then he had his hands full with the war and being Dumbledore's informant. Hermione would be grateful for his absence he was sure.

The walk back to the castle seemed to be an eternity, both he and Draco remained quiet in the solemnity of what they were to do. He listened to the crickets as he walked up to the castle, the chirping should have livened up the scene, but instead it bogged it down. Severus did everything he could to place his troubled mind somewhere else.

After Draco was safe in the Slytherin dorms Severus wandered the halls aimlessly. He managed to put his thoughts toward something else, or rather someone else. Hermione. How could she be safe when her own body attacked her? Maybe he had to make time to watch her, as much as she'd hate it.

_She values her independence too much to take the help. She may be touched at the offer initially, but she'll resent me for it..._ Severus leaned against a window sill he was passing feeling even heavier. _Did I expect her to just ignore the years of animosity and curl up in my lap?_ He scolded himself for wishing she would. He had been part of a plan that would betray her so wholly that he wouldn't be granted her trust, let alone her love. She was a child, it wasn't meant to be and though she was sick and frail, she was too lively, he could never hold her.

He recited the mantra mentally and continued to the courtyard to busy himself till the morning. Once enough time had passed it'd be safe to warn Dumbledore of the plot.Till then the courtyard featured in his dreams could offer some small comfort.

On the grass beneath the oak was a small pale form crumpled into a featal position shivering as she clutched her chest. Soft sobs escaped her , though she bit her lip in a futile attempt to mute them. He wasn;t sure if her face was yet from dew or tears.

Hermione laid in the damp grass with nothing more than a flannel nightgown. A small note book and pen laid neglected beside her as she clutched her chest. Her lips and bare feet were purple, the rest of her skin was stark white.

"Hermione!" he knelt by her side in an instant. He gathered the shaking girl in his arms, drawing her close to him in hopes hearing his heart beat would regulate her own. "You're alright. You;re going to be okay."

She only sobbed in pain as a response to his words. He stayed as clam as possible, breathing slowly and exadgeratedly, hoping the movement of his chest against her head could encourage her heart to slow its beating. He drew her into his lap and pressed her back against his torso, trying to match their hearts, which proved troublesome when she was shaking so.

The shaking became slower and slower until it stopped. Her breathing was still laboured and a squeak escaped her lips every now and then. She opened her eyes, sparkling in moonlight and tears, and turned her head to face him. She blinked at him with confusion, she placed a hand on his shoulder, perhaps to steady herself, she seemed so drained of strength. She opened her mouth slightly as though she was considering saying something. She simply sighed and buried her face in his chest. Wondering how conscious she was, he rested his chin on the top her head and held her tightly, it'd only be a moment, once she regained her strength she'd run off and they'd act like it never happened. Until then he would indulge his foolish fancy.

_I should be fighting this_, Hermione thought as she listened to Snape's heart beating. It wasn't natural how safe she felt in his arms when his alliances were still uncertain, at least she should be more suspicious of him, she thought. Even then, she had four years left to live, if something were to happen she couldn't simply sever the ties before it was apparent she was dying. She hoped it would prevent heart ache, but not having them see her dying would only lessen the blow. Till then she had four years to work for peace and leave her friends with good memories. That is, if her cancer hadn't come back...

_That;s impossible, it can't come back._

"What am I doing here?" she asked no one in particular as she got up slowly. He rose with her, holding her by her shoulders.

"I don't know," he looked at her with an expression of concern and relief as he placed a palm on either of her cheeks. "You're absolutely drenched. Do you remember anything?"

The emotion she couldn't read was fear. She could see it as she gazed into those queer black eyes. Strange tempests of emotion flooded them, but fear was the driving force. It had even painted his typically stoic face. Had he grown too tired to keep the stone brick fortress walls? Or was he letting her in? She felt like a bitch...her attempts to push him away were as futile as trying to pick a rose from its bush with her mouth. It only pained her and the fragile flower.

Would it honestly hurt her so much if he knew? If she could talk to anyone about her illness without fear of being shoved into idleness or seen differently, or pittied..._He's not as indifferent as you thought. Him giving a damn makes things so much harder. I had hoped he just wanted to know what's wrong, as though i'm a riddle. It runs deeper than that...with both of us._

"I'll take that as a 'no'?" he asked taking her hand. "we might as well get you to the h—"

" 'No' what?" she asked letting go and picking up her journal and pen

"I had asked you if you remember anything," he kept a steady eye on her, he held himself as if he were ready to catch her at the slightest waver. "You seemed to be confused as to why you are here."

"I was writing," she supplied. "This isn't the most responsible or bright thing I've done, but I know what I was doing."

Though she was telling the truth, he was unconvinced. It was that late afternoon in the courtyard all over again. His black eyes flustered her with their undying sympathy, his hands on hers felt like cold stone opening to engulf them, he stood infront of her with a possessive fear registering in his face. Had he believed her, he wasn't showing it.

"You never believed I wasn't passed out under that tree that day did you?" she asked looking up to his dark eyes with a softer tone than intended. "How could I convince you I was lucid when I came down here?"

"You won't," he said simply letting go of her hands in favour of holding her face again touching his forehead to hers. "You've got to stop this, Hermione. Please."

Hermione was set aback at the man's sincerity. Her first name also struck her as strange, the pain in his voice was evident as his hands of stone and cool voice became velvet. His plea would have melt her heart , and it did echo through her mind, plucking a string she'd hoped to forget. With a light sigh her tiny cold hand found his. She merely laid it on top of his and let herself dissolve to his touch.

Severus couldn't explain his bending to his desire, but he didn't care. Standing so close to her, feeling her soft breathing, he could forget about the world around them. He wished desperately he'd let him help her. It was so frustrating when she was so sick and he couldn't do anything about it. He was contented to hold her face in his hands and warm her forever. She would never allow it. To prove him right, a small cold hand found its way atop his to move it.

Much to his surprise, the hand merely laid on top of his gently. He noticed her muscles relaxed and her breathing soften further. She melted to his touch as her hand clasped around his and rose her free hand to grip his shoulder weakly. "I'm so sorry," small soft whisper under her breath broke the silence of the night as a single tear touched his hand. "I know you don't need this. But I—"

"Shh," he shushed her tilting her head up slightly with the intention of closing the gap between their lips when she began wavering. _Damn it!_ He cursed as he led her to the bench and sat her down.

"You're afraid," he stated as if she didn't already know.

She sat there with her eyes fixed on the paling sky, trying to process everything that transpired. She couldn't understand the man sitting beside her. The month had confused her so, his behaviour shifting to favouring her after years of either ignoring her or being outright nasty with her. He was always on her heels, watching her so intently in search of symptoms. Symptoms...even now, Hermione was fighting ones she shouldn't be tormented her as she tried to fight off her dizziness, making it difficult to focus her eyes on the tired blinking stars. Her chest hurt as her lungs tried to take what oxygen they could, though their tightness wouldn't allow much. A weak muscle slowly moved in her chest, too weak to move blood to her limbs and brain. She tried to steady herself with weak, shaking arms.

Hands found her shoulders, steadying her as a troubled voice sighed in her ear. "You're beginning to lose faith in your being cured. You're prepared to let this disease win."

Hermione fumbled for an answer...any answer other than the truth. The truth his troubled voice whispered. She couldn't tell him that she suspected the transplant didn't do what she thought it would. She definitely couldn't tell him that even if she was still cancer free and the heart wasn't being rejected that she had still made peace with dying in four years.

"Aren't you going to correct me?" he asked seething. "Tell me I'm wrong, Granger."

He sighed drawing her in to him after she answered him by looking at the ground silently. She wanted to tell the man holding her everything and nothing. She wanted to push him away and draw him near. As much as she prayed that man would find happiness and that she could help him, she now wished he'd forget her. He'd never let her slip into obscurity.

As if to confirm her thoughts he whispered into her ear. "I'm not prepared to let you go so easily."

A silence passed between the two. Hermione sat rigid in his arms as she felt the weight of what he had said. He had every intention of making sure she fought the cancer off if it had returned. It couldn't return...she had too much to do. Her life span was shortened. There was no fighting involved, making peace with the four years she had left wasn't a crime. She was sure she would be ready to die then.

"I'm s—"

"If that's an apology I don't care." He let go of her and created space between them with a low growl.

Hermione turned to face him. A fire flickered in his black eyes burning her to the core. The scowl she once thought was ever-present had reappeared on his face. His stare sent a chill down her spine as he clutched her arm. The heat of his anger shrouded him in coldness, his once bared soul was sent back inward, probably recognizing the safety of being introverted. His voice iced over, it might have froze her very heart. "People in your condition wind up dying after they've gotten out their apologies, so don't think you'll be making amends with me anytime soon."

_I'll die with or without atoning, you're only preventing my peace!_ Her mind screamed what she couldn't. There was no point in starting an argument she couldn't win. There was no wining with him. The man was like a child, tenacious and hot tempered. He was a pitbull unwilling to let go of what he sank his teeth into. Hermione didn't know what role he was looking for her to play, the student, the patient,the child, the close friend, and infinite others came to mind, but she did know he had a hold on her.

"I hate early February and March..." she moved his hand from her arm and stood as she stared at the staggered stars. She turned back to look at him as she folded her arms over her chest. Her eyes and icy tone conveying a message with her words "Everything's so cold."

His eyes shot back at her that the message was perfectly clear. "Indeed."

He approached her slowly, cold eyes looked her up and down, examining her clinicly. His cold gaze held her in suspense for a moment, the air in her lungs burned, but the air around her was dead. She tried to anticipate his next move, meeting the cold gaze that held her with a daring one. She was shocked when a frightened expression took over his cold one and a long, thin hand landed on her chest. He was staring at her chest and Hermione could only wonder why before he spoke.

"You're bleeding," he said moving his hand and staring at the dark red stain on his pale flesh. "Can't you feel that?"

Her stitches must have come undone! She desperately wished he hadn't seen it. Hermione went to great lengths to make sure no one knew about it. She shuddered as she thought of herself lying on that table with her chest cut open, like a corpse in an autopsy.

"You're shaking again." He spoke to her as if she were unaware of her movements. "Here, let me see if I can stop the bleeding before I take you to the hospital wing."

Hermione backed away from him when she saw his hands raise to the buttons on her night gown. "I'm not bleeding so profusely that I can't make the walk to the Hospital Wing."

"Her—"

"I'm not even certain it needs medical attention, to be honest."

"If I have to carry you there kicking and screaming, you're going." He closed the gap she just made.

Hermione sighed, pressing her hand against where she was bleeding as she tried to ignore her wooziness. "Punish me as you see fit, I'm leaving."

Before she had a chance to turn around e grabbed her by the arm. She wriggled free from his grip, his grip was loose for the sake of her circulation, a mistake he wouldn't soon make again. Hermione struggled against the hands wrapped around her fragile wrists. To both of their amazements, the struggle ended with him on top of her, straddling her hips and pinning her by her wrists.

"I'm through being nice with you!" he barked down at her, his voice burning her ears and his eyes burning her soul. " 'She'll come around' I kept telling myself, 'she'll see I mean no harm and open up', 'she'll let me or someone else take care of her' . I told myself that if I were patient enough you'd come to me. But I'm done being patient!"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but all she could do was gasp, wide-eyes in shock, staring at him. She listened to him continue inundated with shock. Fear she once felt toward him in her first year was not only revived, but amplified.

"You're going to let me look at this wound, you're going to the hospital and I'll not hear so much as a word of objection leave your lips!" she felt she might wither under his gaze, burning holes into her as his weight crushed her. His face was only inches from hers with an expression she couldn't bear. "Do you understand me?"

Hermione's stomach churned as she looked up at her teacher. Somebody who she was supposed to be able to trust, somebody who had grown on her in the past few months. If he did infact, care about her, it was a twisted affection that could only taint them both. She couldn't even look at him anymore. Turning her head to the side she gave a resignated sigh: "Do whatever the hell you want."

_Idiot!_ Severus scolded himself when he heard her say that. He felt his heart break when he saw her eyes begin to pool before she turned her head. She couldn't even look at him, and he couldn't blame her. He opened his mouth to apologize, but quickly decided it he couldn't go back on it. She could never forgive him for something like this, and by intimidating her he got what he wanted so what did it matter? They both already loathed him.

He unbuttoned the gown to her waist and paused at the sight, letting out an involuntary gasp. A long scar trailed between her breasts from beneath her clavicle to one of her upper-middle ribs, the scarlet like an angry fire burning her ivory flesh. It was perfectly straight, the line had to be made with a blade and by someone else. "Who did this to you?"

She didn't answer him. She kept her eyes fixed on nothing, perhaps the tree, her body began to tremble. He wondered if it was because of the cold or because of him. Regardless, he had to patch her up so he put aside his questions. He pulled her limp arms through the sleeves and brought her upper body off the ground. "This might hurt abit, okay, sweetheart?" he spoke softly as if kind words and affectionate names could clean his conscious as he applied some antiseptic he had summonded. A small whimper escaped her lips to prove him right. He began to wrap the tourniquet around her torso carefully covering not only the cut, but the extent of her scar incase the rest of it re-opened. He then put her arms back through the sleeves of her night gown.

After getting up he gathered the small, broken girl in his arms doubting she had the strength to walk. She laid limply in is arms, her eyes staring out into nothing. Anything but him, he imagined. Seeing her tear stained face, he was guilt stricken. He walked slowly for her sake, or perhaps his. He imagined this was the last time to hold her, or be near her in any aspect other than in the classroom.

He looked at the now unconscious girl in his arms. Still drenched in dew and sweat, her pale skin glowed in the twilight shining through a nearby window. A golden red halo seemed to form around her body, the light splaying across her hair and lighting up her sweet face. Her tawny eyelashes sparkled from lingering tear drops twinkling in the light, her eyes were lightly closed, and her blue mouth opened slightly as she took in air.

He couldn't let her go without saying it aloud once. IF he wasn't going to see her outside the classroom again, he had to tell her. He touched his lips to her cold forehead and spoke the words he had tried to in the courtyard. "I love you."


	12. Chapter 12: Carnivore

Hermione's eyes opened to find an all too familiar scene. She was in the cold hospital wing with a thin white sheet draped over her and an even colder man sitting next to her, his arms creating a fortress for his head which laid in her lap unassumingly. Her stomach churned as she looked at him sleeping like a baby, face buried in his arms on her. She was disgusted, but she was also intrigued as she watched his bent back rise and fall with his surprisingly soft breathing. She imagined his face was as serene as flickering candles when his body wasn't in its usual tensed state. His grey air had left surrendering to something warmer as he slept near her.

This couldn't be the same man who held her down forcibly making her feel more vulnerable than she ever had before, but somehow he was. Hermione pondered the conundrum that was Severus Snape. He was always the mysterious one, his dark eyes shrouded in too many emotions to decipher, his face was always careless, his voice too cool to care. But now things were different, she knew he gave a damn about her.

A wave of tenderness came over her as her familiar sympathy took over her mind. Without knowing why, she began to run her fingers through his dark hair affectionately as she very quietly hummed "Angel Standing By", a lullaby she often played and sang to her younger relatives and sometimes older sister.

Severus awoke to the sound of sweet humming to a melodic tune as fingers ran lightly through his hair, relaxing his very soul. He didn't need to raise his head to see who was doing it. It seemed Hermione had forgiven him for what happened last night. He was glad, but the guilt remained. He knew he was far to forceful with her, and he planned on apologizing when he figured out how. But for now, he was contented to let her run her fingers affectionately through his hair and hum her little lullaby.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice called.

Severus held back a groan and decided to let Potter speak with her a bit before he would admit to being awake. If the conversation took a turn he felt was too personal he would "wake up", but if the two were up to mischief of some sort, or sticking their noses in business they had no place in, well, he felt obligated to listen in and prevent what mayhem he could.

"Oh, hi, Harry," Hermione's hands left his head and she sounded surprised. "I'd say thank goodness you're here, but I'm kind of sad you know to look for me here."

"You've been sick lately," he tried to sound nonchalant, but Severus picked up the hint of concern in his voice. "You should hear the theories going around the tower, some people think you're being gradually poisoned by someone who wants you out of the picture making you sick." He laughed trying to lighten the mood. Hermione rewarded the bad joke with a giggle. "Ron said you don't show up to meals often enough for it to be effective. Which stems another theory that has no ground when you never liked eating anyway, 'skinny bitch must be anorexic'—"

"Lavender Brown?" Hermione laughed.

"Yeah," he chortled. "Sounds like she still hasn't forgiven you for something you never did."

"Well, most girls in any school have people who hate her for no reason." Hermione stage whispered "We're nasty that way!"

"I heard that somewhere..."

"Yeah, we'd be defenceless without sex scandals and sharp words," this was so out of character for the avid feminist, but her words were light and her laughter was sweet.

"I'm sure she'll have one involving you spreading around in no time." Cynicism took the joking tone away.

"Lavender thinks I'm a slut," Hermione sighed lightly. "You'd think that'd bother me more, but you know what? I got insulted, wrote a poem about it and moved on. Life's way too short to dwell on what my sister calls 'petty high school dramas'. "

Harry laughed. "I don't know which to be more surprised by, the fact that you write poetry or the fact you have a sister! How come you never talk about her?"

"I don't talk about my home life in general, Harry," she laughed. "It just never comes up, we always talk about other things, that have nothing to do with home life."

"Save when Ron and I exchange childhood stories and you sit and listen." He accused. "Tell me about her."

"She's three years older, her name's Phoebe, she plays nineteen bloody instruments, she's really smart, well humoured, and a composer, sort of. She's currently studying music in Canada, she wants to be a music teacher. Her husband's name is Mark and their daughter's name is Elizabeth, she's about eight months old or so."

"Wow, is there anything else?"

"Well, Phoebe's also a hockey player and is one the swim team. And she's a good singer and everything she touches turns to gold, and I may have put my finger on why I don't talk about her."

"Sounds like she's alot to live up to," he spoke sympathetically as though he'd understand. Weasley might have been the better choice for someone to complain to. "And what about you, closet poet?"

"I'm a demigoddess from pre-war Babylon. " she stage whispered once more.

"Okay," Potter laughed. "Forgive me if I don't bow."

A silence between the two passed, Potter broke the silence with something he'd been wondering when he first called Hermione in that confused tone. "Is he actually sleeping?"

"I think so," Hermione placed a hand on his back, keeping pace with his breathing. "That or he's a bloody damn good actor. Plus he's missed plenty of opportunities to insult us. I don't think he would've been able to resist saying something about me being a demigoddess."

Potter was convinced with this. He liked being so underestimated by them, it made his job easier.

"What exactly is going on between you two?"

Severus was torn between "waking up" and listening to Hermione's answer. Did it really cross the line to too personal? Was he up for listening to the two talk about him? Surely, the right thing to do at this point would be to say he isn't sleeping and shoo Potter off, by time she was discharged he would forget the question. _Not likely_. He listened.

"Nothing I'm aware of," Hermione answered her voice lacking the light tone it once had. "I always knew he was lonely. You could see it in his eyes. I'm not saying he was the most inviting personality, he pushed alot of people away. I imagine purposely. But contrary to Paul Simon's beliefs, a man is not a solitary island. I think he's recognized this and decided to reach out to someone."

"Why you instead of a Slytherin?"

"It's quite obvious actually." Hermione spoke softly but asserted her theory must be right. "I'm fainting nearly every day, I barely have enough strength to carry a hard cover book at times, I sleepwalk, and overall am an accident prone fragile person. Despite my independence—which I am perfectly capable of operating on my own—" Silent objections cried in Severus's brain at this."I am the perfect person for him to turn to because he's convinced I need him more than he needs me. That's another thing I think made him turn to me, he wants or needs someone he can take care of." Hermione bent to the need she just described by straightening out a blanket draped over his shoulders. "I used to he wasn't a bad person, just haunted."

Severus felt the weight of her use of the past tense. He wondered if he'd lost her faith before or after last night. He could take her insults, her defiance, her pity, and even her attempts at profiling him, but to hear her theory as one where he comes out as an innocent then followed by the fact she can't view him in that light anymore was a devastating blow. It would have been better if she had never viewed him a positive light to begin with.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked raising his head slowly from her lap. He sat upright and extended a hand to her cheek. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes." Hermione recoiled.

"She was talking to me," Potter piped. "Is there some reason you think she'd be talking to herself?"

He kept his gaze on Hermione as he checked her pulse. "She walks and talks in her sleep, and she also has a nasty little habit of getting into trouble with it." He turned to face Harry and sighed. "You're her friend, shouldn't you know this?"

"I saw no reason to tell him, he had no way of knowing." Hermione answered.

"You're going to wind up killing yourself!" he spat at her.

"I fail to see the part where that's your problem," she replied coolly.

He shoved a finger in her face and grabbed her shoulder like a disapproving mother. "Listen here, you stupid little girl—" he turned his attention to Potter who just kept staring at Hermione as if trying to figure out what else she had been keeping from him. "Leave us."

And in a strangely out of character manner, he didn't need much convincing to leave her alone with him. He simply told Hermione he'd be back to see her if she wasn't ready to be discharged and left.

"You listen to me, li—"

"I think I've listened long enough," she hissed at him. "You had your chance to appeal to me, and you wound up suppressing me in more ways than you can imagine. You—"

"You two can continue this argument after I've discharged you!" Pomfrey snapped cutting the bladed words off. "I'm tired of listening to you two bickering like an old married couple." She put a stethoscope to Hermione's back. "Breathe."

She did so, there was a slight shaking in her deep breath that could be both seen and heard. He wondered if it was because of her condition or her anger. As Pomfrey went on with her examination they listened to her reprimand. Some of it was directed at him in particular as she accused him of trying to upset someone with her condition and said that it could make her much worse. If he was so bloody concerned about the girl he wouldn't be so forceful. Hermione's reprimand was simpler saying that she should be more cooperative.

"You should be good to go," she told Hermione giving her back her bag. She turned back to him "You'll probably bring her back here soon, so next time try and avoid baiting her into arguments."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied words dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione simply moved to get up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She was more careful getting up to avoid his too eager hands from supporting her. "I'll see if I can make twenty-four hours without being carried here."

"I highly doubt it, Granger," he said noting her shaking her hands. "Do you have control over all your muscles?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and hid her hands in the crooks of her arms. "Yes." She turned to leave at this.

"Wait," he called as he tried to muster up an apology.

"What do you want now?" she asked breaking from her choice to look directly at his face. He wished she hadn't. A palpable pain in her brown eyes slapped him with a sharp, burning pain.

Guilt stricken, he lost his words. All he could think about was what she must've thought when she was under him. She had no clue what he was going to do, in her eyes, he could have done anything to her. He couldn't imagine what thoughts must've gone through her head once he pinned her, but the thought he just wanted to help her was surely not one to cross her mind.

"I expect to see you today in class."

"Of course, sir."

He watched her leave with a million thoughts echoing through his tired mind. His chest burned with his undying love, mocking him for being such a fool. He wondered if she knew or cared about the hell she had put him through every time she refused help, every time she wavered or fainted. All he wanted to do was take care of her, but she couldn't allow it.

He wondered if she would act any differently if she knew how he felt.

_She'd run away from you and never look back if she were to find out, you idiot!_

"Hermione Granger, get that bloody quill out of your mouth!" Snape shouted as he passed her walking up to the front of the class.

The nerve! Why couldn't he just ignore her? Wasn't it bad enough she had to be in the same room as the bastard? Hermione bowed her head over her writing and removed the quill she chewed on nervously. She took in a deep breath covertly to steady herself. This class neither the weak heart in her chest or her strong emotions would make her vulnerable in front of him.

"Now that your mouths empty," he began behaving as if last night never happened. "You can to tell me the spell that suspends a person's bodily functions temporarily and its affects. And while you're at it, you can tell me the counter curse."

Sitting with her head cradled in her hands Hermione's eyes found the robins nesting in an oak outside the window as golden sun poured through the panes. The red breasted male held it's wing over the less flamboyant female as if protecting her from something the sky would wrought upon them. Or maybe it was just some strange way for him to show his affection. Hermione didn't break her gaze away from the birds as she answered the man's question.

"It's _suspendous animus,_ isn't it?" she felt her voice distracted and flat, but didn't bother correcting it. "It does exactly what the name suggests, the person is frozen in time. As if caught in a cruel comma, the world moves around them, they see it as their locked in their bodies. Locked In Syndrome sounds more accurate I guess. You'd have to be a sadist to use it. The counter spell is _Re-animus_, but good luck using it if you're the one hit."

"A cruel comma?" he asked, his voice sounded as dead as hers. "I'd have to say, that's the most colourful description I've heard of the spell."

"Does my use of adjectives make my answer wrong, Professor?"

"No, with or without the adjectives you're right," he sighed. "it's the last two sentences I have a problem with."

The class proceeded, the first half of it was note taking. It wasn't long before her notes transformed into rhyming couplets about the robins she had been so fascinated with. She felt her heart go to them as she watched them with intent of understanding them.

_Robins Nesting in an old oak tree_

_Tall enough that out the window I can see,_

_The two look happy, the male is chirping his convictions_

_To the passive female under his wing, is this possession?_

_Or perhaps a form of protective affection,_

_That I with my weary and mean mind cannot understand._

_The red-breasted, beautiful bird takes his wing and begins to stand_

_The female is small and frail, I wonder how many eggs she has laid_

_Or is the red-breasted predator still wooing the small, dull maid?_

_Like a naive school girl she takes to his nuzzling_

_Without the knowledge it's her he will be muzzling._

_Looking at them, I wonder how long the two of them will last._

_Why the hell am I personifying birds in class?_

Soon the couplets about the robins melted into couplets that spoke of bitterness and vulnerability. Soon, she had her surroundings had been tuned out as couplets became a sonnet and transformed again to freeverse with an irregular rhyming scheme. She eased her conscience before she was too far gone by telling herself that she had already taken notes from the text book. Missing one lecture's notes wouldn't hurt her.

"Hermione," Harry nudged her with a whisper at the same time a low-toned shout broke her self-imposed catatonia.

Hermione looked up at the voice's owner who stood at the front of the classroom like an indignant child. Snape's eyes looked torn between shooting daggers at her and engulfing her in a twisted concern. He didn't have to choose. He could be as caring and concerned as he pleased, leaving behind his awful possessiveness for any length of time only to let it re-surface and spring out at her with a terrible violence. If she was being too sensitive, he was still a sadist.

He spoke to her with a harsh tone, a steel frost soon grew over his voice as if to detach himself from the heated anger. He threw insults coolly at her that she heard too many times to care. Eventually she just let's him fade away.

"Are you even listening to me?" he asked with a sigh.

Hermione cocked her head to the side and looked at the man analytically, he was surveying her too. "Am I?"

"Stay after class, Granger."

When class let out Hermione's eyes had been fixed on the robins nesting, the floor, a crack in the wall, her note book, and her quill. Other than their last exchange, she hadn't looked at him once. Had he placed the last straw on her back?

Severus looked at the distant-eyed girl. She now turned her gaze back to the window, and he hadn't acted the way he had intended in class, and it added insult to injury. He knew he hurt her last night and had every intention of apologizing. But it had been easier to target her and treat her as though it never happened.

"You were acting very strangely today..." he began looking for words, but they got lost before they met his tongue.

"I wish I could say you were acting strangely as well," she turned her dead gaze back to him. "But you always enjoyed calling out the names of the weaker with a voice I can only compare to nails on a chalk board."

"You're a brave girl throwing around words like that." He nodded shrugging off the pain her words caused. "And a presumptuous one. I kept you so I could apologize."

Hermione surprised him by walking closer to him, leaving precious little space between the two. She looked up at him, her deadened gaze now alive with anger, grief and other sorts of pain palpable enough to stab his heart. "If you're asking for forgiveness, you're asking too much."

Without thinking he raised his hand to touch her cheek, but it was met by Hermione nearly jumping back. "Hermione, sw—"

"Don't you _dare_ touch me again!" she hissed at him. "Do you understand what you did? How I felt? You're a smart man, I imagine you do!"

"H-"

"I don't know what to make of you! You tell me you give a damn, then you'll act so coldly a gradual steel frost spreads from your feet. I've blamed myself for the first while, thinking you were doing this because of the times I've tried to reach out to you. My damned pity knows no boundries." She laughed bitterly as she gave him a long look.

"I'm afraid I can sympathise with that, Hermione."

"During the summer I spent hours laying on a cold steel tray with my chest cut open, like a corpse for autopsy. They gave me anaesthetics, but not enough, I was awake watching them work on me. My life was literally in the hands of strangers, and all I could do was lay there while they operated." She began to cry. "I was totally helpless! And I've never felt more vulnerable in my life than I did last night!"

"Oh my God, Hermione..." he chocked as an overwhelming sadness filled him. He held her with his gaze, her eyes were both more distant than they'd ever been as she recalled her ordeal, and closer to him than they'd have been, cutting through him.

"You have the tolerance of a shark! As soon as blood is shed you're there to catch the wounded fish. I don't know how the hell I was convinced I was safe with you. I guess it was just easier believing the things you said than actually thinking. Your words are as kind as daisies, but your hands are as giving as stone! Your attempts at affection smacks of falsities thick enough to choke daffodils in gardens! Your gaze is like black holes sucking me in before I have the chance to grasp on to something. I try and go about my business, but you follow me everywhere, trying to force me into a role you're not even certain of!"

"Role? H—"

"I can try and defy the role, and I have, but your reprisal burns with a ferocity I don't want to tempt again! Well, I'm sorry I don't fit into the space you want me to! You know this, you know where I'm weakest and strike it when I'm already down. That's what it seemed like last night. You took a swing at me, I might have taken harder than I should have. But I see exactly who the hell you are down here on the ground where you knocked. I'm tired of everything, the fake affection, you're frantic moods swings and your grey laughter and I refuse to play your capricious game another moment!"

Severus approached her with caution. He felt so utterly offended by her words, but saw that she was clearly hurt, and it was his fault. He was torn between embracing her, telling her just how offended he was with a few choice descriptions of his own and just letting her ramble on with her dramatic language between sobs. He let her carry on.

"You'll do what you can to keep me in your freezing tight grasp until I comply. And I'm well aware I'm being too sensitive, but you're elated at how you have me wrapped around that cold alabaster finger of yours!" Resolve returned to the girl as she stopped crying, she glared at him. "I once looked at you like an animal in a trap that was merely frightened and defensive." A bitter laugh flavoured her words. "I hadn't any clue you were anything more than a victim."

"What I did to you last night changed your mind, I assume?" he asked feeling more and more like a villain for trying to help her. "Well, forgive me for giving a damn and trying to help you."

Another bitter laugh rang through the room. "You think I'm being melodramatic?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I don't know what you thought I was going to do, but you've obviously thought way too much about it. I'm tired of being vilified because I did what was necessary when _you refuse to get help!_ "

"You did what was necessary." Hermione sighed. "_Necessary._ You can justify anything can't you? Your words are like dried skin cracking and bleeding with twisted affection or dominance. God, you're like recycled metaphors echoing through the empty corridors of the labyrinth of my mind! I'll never understand anything about you and you'll baffle me till the end! I thought I could help you, but I'm sure that was just my blind optimism. I see now I'm just a rabbit that fell for your aggressive mimicry!I hadn't any business reaching out to you anyway! I'm terrified of you now, and I doubt you care. Your conscience isn't the least bit troubled, is it?"

"You and Longbottom can join a bloody club then!" he hissed, his patience with her waning thin. "If I baffle you so much then let me clarify some things. Words cannot begin to describe how I felt last night! I finally earned your trust and knew I had betrayed you in the same instant. I don't know how much that tore me apart. I remember how shocked you looked, how hurt and resignated you sounded. I didn't take any of it with a light heart. If I hurt you, I'm sorry, but I won't listen to your predetorial metaphors any longer. You're being hypersensitive doesn't make me malicious. Well, I'd hate to break it to you, _sweetheart_, but your melodramatic pretty little words mean nothing! Had I actually matched any of the descriptions you threw at me then you'd actually have something to complain about."

"ta sibh feoil ith! Feoil andulleach!" she hissed at him tears beginning to reform.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a carnivore!" she cried, and as soon as this was said she spun around to leave.

A carnivore. That's what she thought of him. Severus couldn't imagine a single thing he could to win her trust, and no longer cared. If he could keep her alive despite herself it didn't matter. Hermione could think what she wanted. If she was so hell bent on making him a villain he would comply to the role. It was easier and it kept her alive.

The Three broomsticks was packed for a Thursday, Severus attributed it to the "open-mike" night they had recently implemented. It called the mediocre and poor artists to the smoky atmosphere where drunkards sang along with the known songs. The clapping and cheering and mediocre music wasn't improving his already dampened mood. Perhaps he would make this a lesson that Hermione can't just drive him to a bar. The beer and wine hadn't made his problems go away and didn't make Hermione trust him any more. He would know better before turning to a bottle next time. His whiskey-breathed father should have taught him that.

He heard a familiar voice speaking in the background somewhere over the boisterous patrons. A ring of laughter he knew by heart now. He turned to see a group of people clustered in a corner playing a game with various shaped dice and papers scatted on the table.

Loud cheers applauded her decision and all sorts of "dearhearts" and "babies" were thrown her way, making her uncomfortable even with her state. She stopped talking and rolled a twenty-sided die.

. Hermione was quickly approached by a young man who towered over her. The man was well-built and looked at her with an obvious intent.

Hermione leaned against the bar as a boy of around twenty chatted her up. He was well built with a sculptured face and stunning blue eyes resting on high cheek bones. He had large hands, a contrast to the long, thin ones that held her recently. He had a melodic voice and his face was kind. His broad shoulders were strong and earnest.

"You're a brilliant story-teller. I heard you, had me in stitches," he smiled. "Let me buy you a drink."

She laughed shaking her head. "I don't think so. I don't know if you heard my introduction or not, but I've already drank my fill."

"Oh, you can never be too drunk, sweet," he tossed his head back as he asked for two glasses of the best wine.

Hermione thought a moment as suspicion nibbled at her brain. Alcohol made her more interested in the alluring Scot than the offer. A list she made when she was twelve made her more interested in his offer. Either way, she could save her suspicions for later. "Really, you think so?"

"I know so," he smiled resting hand on her hip as he moved closer. "In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret."

Hermione laughed nervously. "Oh, and what would that be?"

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "You're the most interesting thing I've seen grace this bloody bar."

"You think?" she asked skeptically.

"I know I'm interested in you," he flashed a mischievous smile and put both hands on her hips.

"I might just be interested in you," she laughed her inner hedonist taking over.

"Dance with me, Daffodil?" he asked his face inches from hers.

The two were about to close the gap between their lips when a shout jarred them from their drunken romantic moment.

"HERMIONE GRANGER!"

The owner of the voice was none other than Severus Snape. He stood before them eyes a flame and hands in balled up fists at his side. He breathed heavily through grit teeth as he marched up to them. With a white-knuckled grip, he grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boy. He spun her around to face his reddening face as he spat at her through gritted teeth.

"We're leaving!"


	13. Chapter 13: A Night to Forget

"I could kill that boy!" Severus roared as he pulled Hermione by the hand. "What the hell were you thinking? Have you any idea what he might have done if I wasn't there?"

"You—" Hermione began, but he hadn't the patience to listen.

"You think _I'm_ a carnivore," he scoffed bitterly. "That boy treated you like prey for the kill! And you so willingly fell into his trap. 'You could go very far, Daffodil'! I don't know which one of you I'm more disgusted with!"

"I was—"

The rant carried on like this as he pulled her along the grounds, both of them wavering from the alcohol, Hermione stumbled from both her lack of co-ordination and the speed at which he pulled her. He debated just slinging her over his shoulder to make the trek easier, decided against it when his first attempt went poorly as she bit him after several requests to put her down went unheard. His shoulder still hurt from the weak bite.

"Did you think you two would go back to his flat and live happily ever after? Well, I'd hate to break to you, sweetheart, but it would have been—"

"One night of consequence free libertine desires!" Hermione finished pulling her hand from his as they reached the front enterance of the castle. She stood defiantly, her hands on hips. She would not have been so brave without the assistance of alcohol. "I'm not some naive little girl. I knew exactly what I was signing on to when I played along with his 'you're a brilliant writer' opener. So don't paint me as the victim of this piece, and definitely don't paint yourself as the hero of it."

"Don't pretend you understand my motives!" he shouted at her, his blood boiling in his drunken anger. "You were a student I caught breaking the rules and you angered me by being so goddamn reckless! What do you think would have happened if you fainted?"

"Considering the fact I was at a bar," she began seething as much as he was. "They probably just would have ignored the unconscious girl near the bar until last call. I'm no stranger to bars, and that's normally how they work!"

"I've been around a hell of a lot longer than you have and I know that a young girl who fell unconscious among a bunch of drunkards stands a good chance of being carried off and never seen again!" he fumed. "And furthermore, I'm quite certain that boy wouldn't have let you be had you fallen unconscious in his arms. You would have been by far his easiest conquest."

Hermione scoffed as she rolled her glossy eyes. "Is every boy I meet now a rapist because of my condition? Because that's what your accusing him of by saying that!"

"Defending the nameless boy who _you know_ tried to con you into bed?" he laughed bitterly. "I take back what I said. You'd have been his easiest conquest without being unconscious."

Hermione looked shocked for a moment, she gasped as her eyes widened. Shock surrendered quickly to an offended anger, she began to shake from the anger as despite her poor circulation, she flushed pink. "You take that back right now!"

"I don't think I will."

She huffed as she tried to push back her anger, poorly, he noted. After a moment she threw her hands into the air with an exasperated sigh. "I give up! We can have this conversation when you're sober."

He threw his head back in laughter and grabbed her raised arms pulling her towards him. "I don't think that's an option right now, sweetheart. Consider your own condition before you use mine as an excuse to leave. You're twice as drunk as I am."

"Then maybe we can have this conversation when _we're _ sober." She hissed. "Now let go of me before-"

"Without the ability to draw your wand what can you possibly say to make me feel threatened?" he asked smugly.

"I'll bite you!"

He rolled his eyes, let go of her and grabbed her hand once more. He wasn't interested in listening to poorly thought out threats and insults. He had a few choice words he could say to her, but he decided to wait till they were in his office. Even in the heat of his drunk anger he knew that if someone were to come across the two together smelling of alcohol conclusions would be drawn.

"I'm perfectly capable of following you without being led by the hand!" Hermione cried pulling her hand away from his.

"Really?" he turned back to girl who stood like a defiant child. "Up until tonight it seemed every time I found you, you needed to be carried! You were so much more pleasant those nights."

"God forbid you have to deal with me while I'm conscious!" she rolled her eyes and laughed bitterly. "It must be so unbearable to deal with! You've looked for someone who was helpless so you could find some sort of human connection to feed what you've starved yourself from so many years. Well your attempts to make me completely dependent on you are in vain! I'm not so helpless." She neared him tears of rage forming in her eyes. "Did you honestly think the wine would fill that void after you learnt I wasn't helpless?"

"There's where you're wrong, little miss know-it-all." He spoke on edge. " You don't need to be made dependent. Even if that were the case, my going to the bar had nothing to do with you. I had no idea you were so egocentric."

Hermione threw her head back with a bitter laugh. "Whatever the reason, I bet you know that the alcohol isn't going to heal your pain, yet you allowed yourself to be driven to it. Perhaps because you saw it in your childhood. Maybe it was your mother's only way to cope with her illness was to hide from it in the bottle with a pathetic denial. Or it could have been your father, he's the more likely option when you seem to have fond memories of your mother. Otherwise my reminding you of her would make you avoid me. Yes, I can imagine your father being a hot-tempered drunk!" she mused with an insulting accuracy. "You know running away from his problems didn't work for him, and it won't work for you."

"Don't profile me!" he seethed grabbing her by the arm and pulled her along.

Neither of them said a word until they reached his office. The walk there felt like a death march to him, the air became heavy in his lungs as the sound of their hastened steps echoed in his ears. He couldn't believe the nerve of the girl! He wondered how she could say such things about him, dredging up his painful past without even being certain ithappened. The comment about his mother trying to hide from the severity of her illness in a bottle and denial was an exceptionally low blow. One she would be sure to pay for.

After pushing her into his office he slammed the door behind him. He stared at the small drunk girl with contempt. She could barely stand as she leaned against his desk, her skin had gone back to its usual pale and her breathing was laboured. How could it be that this girl could tear him apart with one look when she could barely stand without help?

"You've made some very bold statements," he began. "And I wouldn't say such things if I were you."

"You weren't me, last I checked."

"Listen to me, you stupid little girl!" He roared grabbing her arm again. "You had no right to say any of those things to me! Next time think before you open that infernal mouth of yours!"

"If I were wrong you'd have been more smug than offended." Hermione said simply with artificial confidence.

"SHUT UP!" he cried tightening his grip and pulling her closer. "You're pathetic. All of those nasty things you've said about my mother apply to you! Burying yourself with school work and catering to Potter's half-hatched plans to distract yourself from your illness. Hiding it from everyone so you don't have to deal with it, but convincing yourself it's for their good when in reality you're just too weak to deal with the illness. Your mother's choice to keep you away from any human beings other than your relatives has proven to be as stupid as I bet she is!"

"You had no business dragging my mother into this!" she shrieked trying to free her arm.

"I'm not the one who opened that door, sweetheart!" he was now close enough to smell the liquor on her breath that allowed the insults to flow so easily from her rose coloured, soft lips. He focused on them for a moment and remembered why she was there as confusion crossed her face. "Don't deliver the first blow if you can't handle the counter-strike!"

"You'd be a fool not to take your own advice." She spoke trying to stand straight.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You've everyone here on strings like a sick puppeteer! You know exactly what ones to pull to cause the most destruction. You've cased out all of our weakest points and know exactly how and when to strike. You know my every speech pattern, facial expression and reaction. You've figured out how to suppress me in ways better than having me bound and gagged would. I'm nothing more than a pawn in this capricious game of yours that you can move at your whim! Someone to play whatever role you need like a stray cat you took home to take care of when you're feeling affectionate and kick when your insecurity rears its ugly head! You can't figure out how to fill hole someone else dug out so you found yourself someone you thought couldn't dig out anymore and when you're called on it you act like a frightened, cornered kitten!" another bitter laugh escaped her beautiful yet blasphemous mouth. "You're pathetic!"

"_I'm _ pathetic?" he grabbed her other arm with his free hand and shook her violently. "A sick puppeteer? A carnivore? Your perceptions of me are so distorted from this childish need of yours to ignore your illness that you've failed to see I'm trying to help you!"

Hermione struggled to free herself from his grip and whimpered in pain. He stopped at the delicate sound and quickly released her arms horrified at his action. The pain in her brown eyes were evident as she stared at him in utter shock. It was the same painful expression he'd seen the other night. The shocked gave way to anger as she dealt another ugly blow he couldn't deny.

"Is that how you help me? Is it?" she cried. "Is your childish need to be needed so intense you need to be physical if it's denied? You're a child! An infant! You're right. My perception of you is horribly distorted because I still pity you despite myself!"

He grew uncomfortable looking at her as he felt his own eyes growing moist. Severus paced the length of the room as he spoke to her, trying to use a softer tone, but ultimately failed.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you, Hermione?" he asked in an angered resignation. "I could give you detention, but you wouldn't learn. I could suspend you, but you would without a doubt do something reckless. I'm just not willing to take that chance with you. I tried following you around to make sure you didn't. I met far too much opposition to think that'll work anymore. I just don't know how to handle you anymore."

They made eye contact once more. Both of their eyes overwhelmed by emotion and tears, it was obvious the confusion was mutual. Any fool could see they cared about one another, someone as oblivious as Potter picked it up. Why he didn't realize she reciprocated until the height of a drunken anger was lost to him. She pushed him away because she reciprocated the feelings he so poorly hid. Hiding her illness was just an extra incentive that kept everyone else at a distance as well.

Hermione nervously chewed on the end of her long, thick braid as she surveyed him. She wasn't sure how to react to this knowledge. She contemplated something keeping her eyes on him, making him feel as if she held him under a magnifying glass. He felt much relieved when the hair left her mouth.

"I wish you wouldn't bother with me," she sighed. "I have a very serious heart condition. You're not doing yourself any favours by getting so close to someone like me."

"I don't care what you think I'm signing on for, Hermione." He approached her cautiously. "Shutting me out is doing neither of us any good. I can concede to my having a selfish need to take care of something, but what good are you doing yourself by not letting me indulge it? You need this just as much as I do, if not more. You're sick, let someone help you. _Let me take care of you_."

She looked at him and sighed as her face softened. "I wish you knew how much you need me not to be part of your life right now. I could only bring you down. It's not just my condition or my shortened life span. It doesn't matter how much I need you, or what I feel about you. You don't know how to handle me now. What about the chance the disease I kicked comes back with a vengeance? You'll wear yourself to nothing like my parents and sister did. I look at what I've done to them and I refuse to do that t—"

Severus cut the rambling girl off by grabbing her face and pressing his lips against hers. He eagerly clung on to her, his engulfing hers for a brief blissful moment. Her lips were as soft as he'd imagined, they were still cold and tasted of wine. He pulled his face away from hers and examined the surprised face in his hands.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and her mouth hung slightly open. She couldn't make anything of what just happened. Snape had just kissed her. Had they not just been fighting a moment before? Even if they weren't, she had no clue what possessed him to just kiss her. She had wanted something to transpire between them for a while, but her life span was so short. She couldn't allow it. But the wine and her girlish desires made her forget all the reasons she told him to forget her as his lips met hers once more.

She stood there tense in his arms for a moment, still not knowing how to react. She melted into his kiss within a moment moving her lips with his, tasting the liquor on his breath she was sure caused him to do it. His lips were warm on hers, and felt both eager and delicate. She stood on the balls of her feet and clasped her hands around the back of his neck. She was willing to forget about her condition and let the night take them where it may.

Severus was amazed when she clasped her tiny cold hands around his neck and melted into his embrace. The world seemed to stand still, nothing mattered but this very moment. He let his troubles fade away feeling as if they were entitled to one perfect moment before going back to their troubled lives. He knew once she was sober the objections would slowly return. But tonight he would have the perfect memory to look back on when she managed to shut him out for good.

Despite the fact he wasn't interested in pushing too far with Hermione, his impulses won over. He eagerly sat her on his desk as his greedy hands undid the knot at the back of her dress. Her fingers now traced the length of his back gently without the urgency he had done everything with. He laid her down eagerly as his clumsy tongue fumbled around in her mouth.

A rapping on his door spoiled the blissful moment. He pulled his face from Hermione's feeling as if the knock had been an ambush. It was timed so perfectly he couldn't believe it. With a quiet groan he went to get off Hermione when he saw her mouth out the words. "Ignore it."

The resumed with a revived exuberance. They only got in a few more fervent kisses before the rapping began again. At the moment he couldn't imagine anything more irritating. He sighed as he looked longingly at Hermione wondering if they'd ever share another moment like this. "This had better be important!"

"It is!" McGonnagal's voice answered.

He quickly got up and helped Hermione off the desk and kissed her once more before directing her under the desk. He adjusted himself and answered the door to greet the stern faced old woman who stood with her arms folded over her chest with a rigid posture. "Come in."

"I'm sorry to wake you, Severus," she said eyeing him strangley.

"Is something wrong?"

"You stink of liquor!"

He nodded with a mild embarrassment. "Yes, I decided to see the up and coming artists at the Three Broom Sticks. I figured an open mike night might be amusing. " he then shook his head. "I wouldn't recommend going. Very few of the musicians were any good. I sat beside one of them at the bar. She was a nice young lady who enjoyed spilling her wine on me."

"She definitely sounds like a keeper," she rolled her blue eyes behind her square spectacles.

"I thought so." He laughed then turned serious. "What's going on, Minevra?"

"Albus found one of them. He wants you to look at it where you'd know for sure if..."

_Could it be?_ he wondered. If they found one they would be a step ahead of Voldemort and his death eaters. Making his defeat much easier for Potter. If they could find all of them before the boy would have to face him head on. Severus hoped desperately it was. "Let's go, the sooner it's identified the—"

McGonagal looked at him skeptically, catching that he was distracted. His eagerness didn't seem to hide the fact he was distracted. He was. He began thinking about Hermione hiding beneath his desk. How much of the conversation would she remember? He prayed she wouldn't mention specifics.

He briefly hated the boy he swore to protect when he thought of what he dragged a severely ill girl into. She didn't stand a chance. Her own body was against her, an international army of wizards hell-bent on exterminating her like was impossible to overcome. Potter was stupid to drag someone so fragile into that mess. Severus felt a twinge of guilt when he realized he wasn't any different. If the two had become romantically involved, he would have been dragging her into a dark world where she would be put at an even greater risk. He decided he was never happier to see the severe woman standing before him.

"I think it can wait till tomorrow morning." She apologized at this and left.

Hermione heard the door close and her tense body loosened with relief. Curiosity engulfed her drunk mind as she wondered what they were talking about. She decided to convey this information to Harry and Ron as soon as she could. That being as soon as she came up with a good lie as to why she heard the conversation.

Snape came around to meet her with an extended hand. She took it, allowing him to help her up. He pulled her up slowly lacking the glee he had shown moments before when they were about to make love.

His eyes were cold and distant when he looked at her. His face expressionless as a catatonic, Hermione couldn't figure out how he felt anymore. Niether of them did.

"I suggest you leave," he finally said, refusing to make eye-contact as he spoke. "I have no intention of taking advantage of a drunk sixteen-year-old girl with a heart condition."


	14. Chapter 14: Violet lensed Memories

"_You're doing too much, Lily," the boy beside her says._

_Hermione raises her head recognizing the black-eyed boy who called her 'Lily". Without choosing her words, they leave her lips. "I'm fine, Severus."_

"_Which explains the dark rings looming beneath your eyes." _

"_I just need a few more signa—"_

"_Lily," he cuts her off in an impatient manner that Hermione was far too familiar with. "Listen to me. You are fifteen, nobody is interested in a petition started and circulated by a few kids. Your letters have been ignored and we saw how the protest unfolded. One little girl is not going to change the world."_

_The words for some reason cut through Hermione like a knife, fury and sadness mixed together in a dangerous concoction suited for the bomb that had been dropped on her. Tears fill her eyes as she opens her mouth to attack her attacker. "How _dare _you say that? After everything that happened this summer you have no right to say that! Someone, something has to put a stop to this war! People are dying and don't you dare say they're only muggles! My brother died in that war thinking he could bring about peace with a gun! I won't rest until the bloodshed stops!"_

"_You're trying to do too much. You;re wearing yourself thin between the campaigning to end the war of the gulf, trying to track the movements of the Dark Lord and you're still the over achiever in all of the classes. If you're going to work yourself to death, at least chose a goal that's obtainable!" he yells back, his fury too familiar to upset her. His comment on what her brother died for was a different story._

_Hermione is now with the knowledge that this boy had been her oldest and dearest friend. He had seen her through thick and thin, taught her about magic, the two read stories together as children, they'd play together for hours, re-enact scenes from books they read, and talk for hours star gazing. He hated her boyfriend, but other than that he was the most supportive person in her life._

"_Severus!" she shrieks at him. "You son of a bitch!"_

Hermione opened her eyes happy to see the ceiling of the girl's dormitory and not the one of the hospital wing. She shrugged the dream away, or tried as she got up. Since her heart transplant she had the most curious dreams, and Snape's sudden interest in her fuelled more than one uncomfortably intimate dream with both her as this girl and as herself. She originally attributed the strange dreams to the stress of having her heart replaced. Her ordeal with cancer, her coping with a shorter life span, all of it could rob a person of peaceful dreams, but this was too different.

Hermione had an idea of why she kept dreaming about being this girl Lily Evans, but it was mad.

"PPPmmrrrrow?" Crookshanks meowed at her, looking up with expecting golden eyes.

"I'll feed you in a moment, baby," she cooed scratching behind his ears. He leaned in to her touch, purring. But it wasn't long before he jumped off the bed and gestured at her pack with a paw and yowled.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took out the damned orange bottle of pills. "I'll take them later." She lied sticking them back in her bag. _Out of sight out of mind. I don't need them._

She got on her knees and dug two bowls out from under her bed along with a bag of catfood and a bottle of water. She filled the bowls with quickly and prayed her cat would be distracted by his favourite thing.

After both bowls were filled the golden eyes still glared at her, as if he would benefit from her taking those damn pills. He yowled once more, sitting impatiently, looking up as if to say he wouldn't eat if she didn't take her pills. She took the bottle and tilted it as if to get a pill out of the capped bottle. She then took a swig of the water bottle.

She sometimes swore her parents trained him as a medicine reminder. She'd believe they did after she refused to stay home and refused to use a pager that wouldn't work at Hogwarts anyway. She was sick of treatments, at this point it was the only thing making her ill. If the treatment is worse than the disease why did she need to bother? The thing her tumour grew on was gone. It wouldn't spread, they cut it out of her body. A relapse wasn't likely with her heart gone. The new heart gave her four years and goddamnit, she'd be healthy during them.

The other girls slept peacefully in their beds as she crept to the window at the far side of the room. She opened the arched window and craned her neck out the window to see the later stages of dawn. She wondered how she was not more tipsy from last night, but was glad she wasn't for the stunt she was about to try. She sat on the window ledge, her legs dangling miles above the ground. She looked down briefly and was quickly reminded of her life long fear of heights. She took in a deep breath as she gathered her courage.

Everything she had gone through since her coming to Hogwarts was horrific and amazing, a feat for a healthy person. A wave of shame washed over her as she thought about the selfish motives driving her along with the motives she was upfront about. She truly did want to see peace, she wanted to see generations of tolerance and help her friends survive, but she also saw it all as a way of beating her condition. When she relapsed at twelve she had decided she'd sooner Voldemort kill her than the cancer. If she could decide that at twelve, she could climb to the roof. The turret wasn't so steep she'd fall when she sat on the brim. If she got to it.

_Better to fall than to see another relapse._ She took in another deep breath and began to climb. Her weak hands gripped the ledge over the window, with shaking arms she miraculously pulled herself onto the lip of the roof. She sat with her knees to her chest and pulled her old silver flute from her belt and began to play a song from an old dream. She felt the sun's rays on her flesh as the sun fully risen. A crescendo of birds' song joined her high lullaby.

"Hermione?" a voice asked from behind her.

Hermione was relieved to see it was her lanky red-headed friend. She didn't know why she expected someone else, but was glad she was wrong.

"What are you doing up here?" Ron asked. "Last I checked you were horrified of heights."

"I still am, don't worry." She laughed.

Ron sat beside her and dangled his legs over the ledge and put an arm around her. "Why did you come up here anyway?"

"Figured I'd sooner watch the sunrise and play my flute where I couldn't be interrupted by my newly acquired shadow." Hermione laughed nervously when she realized who she expected.

"Someone as brilliant as you should be able to reason the room of requirement is a safer hide-out than the roof of Gryffindor Tower."

"I could also just stay inside the tower," she laughed again. "What brings you here?"

"I thought I was mad when I heard music," he shrugged. "You know Harry and I need to sate our curiosities."

Time passed silently between the two of them as they listened to the birds. Ron typically wasn;t the type to appreciate the silence, but he stayed there with his arm around her, she assumed he was afraid she'd fall. His blue eyes were contemplative as he stared at her. Hermione was the first to break the uncomfortable eye-lock.

"You're so reckless this year. " Ron stated looking down at the ground. "Does this have anything to do with Joshua?"

The weak muscle beating in Hermione's chest felt the same pain her own cancerous heart did at the sound of her dead lover's name. He died that summer, not even three weeks after his twin sister died of the same disease. Hermione couldn't believe both twins had brain tumours. Joshua and Violet were the two she stuck around at Jenny House since she was sent there one summer when she was twelve. She was sent there for a month every summer since . Originally, Hermione hated the idea of being sent to a camp for minors with terminal illnesses, but Violet and Joshua made it worth while.

Joshua was so wonderful, and so strong. He was improving before Violet died, every moment he spent with his arms around her, he looked better. He managed to gain weight, a gleam once dulled in his violet eyes had glowed brighter than any beacon when he looked at her. He bared his soul to her without a moment's hesitation, and cried with her over Violet's death. Joshua was the most beautiful person she ever held.

She felt like a traitor when she thought of her transgressions with the boy at the bar and Snape. Joshua wouldn't have sunk so low if it had been the other way around.

_It should have been the other way around!_ Hermione bowed her head to hide her tears from Ron. _I was going to die without a transplant and he was improving! They said remission wasn'tsomething unforeseeable! How could he have taken such a turn for the worse so quickly?_

"Hermione?" Ron asked moving his hand from her.

"I think I'm going to be here for a while." Hermione said as she took her flute back out. "I had a rough night, and a lot to think about."

"Will you be able to get down without help?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. Getting up was difficult with her strength, getting down would be even riskier she imagined. Forethought had always been Hermione's thing, but since Joshua passed she couldn't make herself think about tomorrow. Cancer had robbed her of more than she was willing to admit. It took her best friend and her lover along with the turmoil her own disease put her through. She sent a silent apology to Joshua and Abigail for not being as strong as they were. The recklessness everyone seemed to point out had to end.

"I probably do need help," she sighed with her head still bowed.

Ron lowered himself into the window of the boys' dormitory and held out his arms for her to lower herself into. She struggled a tad, but he caught her as she slipped and pulled her into the window.

"Ron?" she whispered before he let go of her.

He acknowledged her as he set her feet. Blue eyes filled with concern.

"Do you think—I mean, Joshua..." Hermione bit her lip, she wasn't sure how to ask him. Maybe Ron wasn't the one to ask, but he was the only one she told about Joshua. She sighed and buried the question she already knew the answer to for a later date. "On second thought, it I can't talk about it."

Ron embraced her without a hesitation, she felt as though she could crumple under his touch, like she did so much lately. Her friends have become a crutch, and it was so unfair to them. They had so much to deal with, why did they need to be bothered by her ordeal? She couldn't burden them any longer.

"We don't need to," he sighed.

"I'd be careful, Ron," piped Seamus as he tied his shoe on the edge of his bed. "I'm sure Snape wouldn't be impressed to find you had his girlfriend out on the roof."

"I dare you to say that again, you asshole!" she shrieked drawing her wand from her robes.

"I see his temper's rubbed off on you. And I'm sure that's not the only thing."

"What the hell are you talking about, Seamus?" Harry joined the two playing the role of mediator. "The only thing Hermione feels for Snape is pity."

"She wouldn't be the first girl to shag someone out of pity," he scoffed.

"Hermione shag Snape?" Ron shuddered with disgust. "You must be mental!"

New tears found their way to Hermione's eyes and her hands shook with anger as she tried to speak softly. "I never pinned you for an asshole. Apparently I was wrong. I know you're angry about your mother's going through and you're taking it out on the only unhealthy person you know. I'm not angry with you, Seamus."

"And why would that be?" he asked fuming at the mention of his mother's heart condition.

"Because I pity you."

"Perhaps I'll get a pity-shag out of it someday," he said as if he could take away the pain inflicted by inflicting more upon her. "Won't I, _sweetheart_?"

"You're disgusting!" she cried forgetting her act. "I thought we were friends! _Honestly!_ "

She left the boys' dormitory with Harry and Ron chasing after her. She was fuming and wished they wouldn't follow her. She couldn't bear to be around people at the moment, she needed to think. Too many things were happening at once. Being confronted by Seamus, snogging with Snape after being dragged back before she was about to sleep with some boy she didn't know, and she was wrestling with the fact she knew Joshua would be disappointed with everything she's done.

_I didn't want to let you down, Joshua! I'm so, so sorry!_

Harry and Ron kept trying to talk to her, but she rewarded there concern with silence as she remembered Joshua and Abigail. She was absolutely disgusted with herself, and the metamorphosis she would have to undergo wouldn't make her some iridescent, grateful butterfly. But she wouldn't be despicable.

As she played with her breakfast she tried to listen to Harry, Ginny and Ron discuss how awful Seamus had toward her. Ginny was shocked but maintained it was only mad to believe she reciprocated and that Snape had made it more than obvious he fancied her. Ron told her she was mad, Harry agreed there was something he felt toward her, but it shouldn't subject Hermione to the abuse.

She couldn't listen. Thoughts about Joshua had consumed her as she played with her food a memory came to her. A fond one that brought a bitter-sweet smile to her face.

"_Hey," Joshua smiled with two bouquet of daisies, daffodils and violets in his arms."How're my favourite girls?"_

_Hermione tried not to cry when she looked over to Violet, her skin was much too pale, her bare hands were bony, her cheek bones under her closed violet eyes were too pronounced. A blue scarf covered her bald head, and she was bundled in pink blankets. The girl who once shared her insomnia slept all day._

"_She's so tired all the time. The pain medication makes her loopy, and when she speaks she only talks about the past. I'm afraid she isn't too lucid." Tears began to fall as she turned to face him. "Oh, Joshua! I just wish—"_

_She was cut off with a passionate kiss, she felt his warmth as he embraced her. She was so relieved his skin was warm, that his arms felt firm, no words could describe how grateful she was it was her in the hospital bed and not him. Though she wished she could trade places with Violet. Any fool could see she was dying. _

_He crawled into bed with her and held her tightly with a strength a man being treated for cancer normally wouldn't have. Remission looked likely and Hermione endlessly prayed he would go into remission. She wished Violet would go into remission, but she was given a death sentence two days ago._

_Hermione ran a hand through his soft flaxen hair as she looked into his violet eyes, so filled with love. They were filled with tears making them sparkle, but through his tears his pale lips smiled. He wanted his sister better, but he was glad to have her._

"_I don't want to hear you say you'd take her place, Hermione," he held her closer to him and set the flowers on a side table. "You're going to be fine if a heart comes through. I don't want to get better if I have to go on without you. I love you."_

_Hermione wrapped her arms around him and tried in vain to keep from sobbing. "I love you, too.I don't know what I'd do if our positions were reversed. Lord knows I'm not that strong. If anything happened to you...if your tumour starts to grow again I'd—"_

"_Shhh,"he pressed a thin finger to her lips and moved his hand to dry her eyes. He smiled beautifully as he held her, he kissed her again softly. "We're both going to see the end of this summer. You'll part ways with me at the ferry terminal like you do every August, and we'll write novelesq letters to each other through out the year. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a hell of a lot better, and once your heart is replaced you will be too."_

"_I'm going to miss her..."Hermione sighed recognizing the enevitable._

"_I will too. She's my twin, Hermione," he turned to look at Violet. "We share a soul, she's quite literally my other half. We've never done anything apart. We're just like the Gemini twins. I will never be the same, and not a second will pass I won't miss her. But we'll see eachother through it." Whimsy twinkled in his violet eyes as a soft smile came upon his lips."I almost think she planned this. Us, I mean. Helping eachother cope. She always kept trying to push us together, even after we were as close as any friends could be. She knew we would always see eachother through this."_

_The two sat a while in eachother's arms as they basked in eachother's grief and love. Violet must have seen their separation, everyone saw it. Hermione and Joshua sank, drowning in the waters of denial, but after Violet was hospitalized and put on heroin, the two had to face the music. Violet said she made peace with dying, but Hermione wasn't as ready as Joshua was to let go. And Joshua was only ready because they had always prepared to be separated by this illness._

_They stayed in their loving embrace as they cried together. Hermione never before and hadn't since felt so warm and safe. Joshua was a fire in the dead February winter of her mind. No, he was a fragile flower whose seed was planted beneath the deep snow. He pushed through the tempest's litter and bloomed, the most beautiful and brightest flower ever to be seen. No winter could kill him. Hermione would let the cancer take her before it'd take him away the way it was about to take his sister._

"_Joshua? Hermione?" a weak, cracked voice piped from the bed at the other side of the room, barely audible._

"_Violet!" the two nearly cheered in unision. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, glad to see her awake._

_Joshua helped Hermione up and they walked over to Violet's bed. Hermione used her IV as a cane so she wouldn't put too much wait on the recovering Joshua and was careful not to run over her oxygen tube. She looked at the fragile girl lying in her bed. She clasped her cold hand as she looked into her violet eyes. They were the only thing that still looked like her. Her lips were white, her fingers were dusky and her body was too thin and wiry. She was so cold all the time._

"_I love you two," the chapped pale lips formed a smile that wasn't so alien to her. It was Violet's smile._

"_We love you too, Vi," Joshua held their hands, his were the only giving off warmth. "How are you feeling?"_

"_I've never felt better," she joked, her violet eyes gleaming as she smiled. She turned her head weakly to Hermione. "You take good care of my boy?"_

"_I could never take care of him as well as you do, but I promise I'll do whatever I can to come close," Hermione damned her breaking voice betraying her breaking heart. "I love you both too much to let you down."_

"_Please don't cry for me, Hermione," she smiled and turned to her brother. "Same goes for you Joshua. I won't have my brother missing out on life because he's too busy grieving my death when he could be living. Enjoy your time together. We never know how much we have. And treat my bestfriend right. I know you two are perfect for eachother."_

"_No one will take better care of her." He promised._

_Violet closed her eyes lightly and smiled with a peaceful continence. She looked like angel ready to receive her silver wings as her gripped on their hands weakened. Her breathing softened and a single tear rolled down her glowing cheek. She was glowing as the gold sun came shining through the window, creating a gold halo around her holy body. The was a sadness in her wise beauty, and a beauty in the sadness. She was fading away, but her love expanded like light from a beacon, illuminating the darkest corners and drawing them near. She touched their hearts and they touched hers. In all of the turmoil their illnesses gave them, they shared a great beauty that made it worth it._

_Her soft voice whispered to Hermione, but her voice no longer sounded broken. "Sing me a lullabye, please"_

_Hermione kissed Violet's cold cheek and began to sing to her, she prayed the sound would cover the sound of her heart breaking._

"_Seasons come and seasons pass  
>Time can seem so fragile as<br>Fragile like a looking glass  
>I know there must be something more constant than time<br>Cause at night when I sleep  
>I feel you all around me<br>I feel your eyes upon me  
>you closed your violet eyes"<em>

_The three of them basked in their shared love, holding on to one another as Violet Grey fell asleep for the last time_


	15. Chapter 15: Meeting After

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked after noticing Hermione wasn't quite all there.

Hermione snapped back to the present and saw her friends looking at her with concerned expressions. They all exchanged questioning looks with one another as if one of them might have the answer. They looked back to her hoping she would say something, but Hermione didn't know what they wanted to hear. Ron took her hand in his and looked at her with sympathy shining in his blue eyes. "Seamus is a git," he smiled. "It's nothing to get worked up over."

Hermione raised her hand to her cheek to find a fallen tear. She wiped it and smiled forcibly. "It has nothing to do with earlier...I guess I'm just lost in thought."

"About what?" Harry asked plainly afraid for his friend.

"Just remembering something."

Hermione played with her food absently as she mused about Joshua and the first promise she ever broke. She knew Joshua wouldn't want her to dwell, the only good thing about knowing you're dying was that you could give those sort of instructions to those you love. But despite his instructions, Hermione still mourned her violet-eyed fair boy with a heart of gold.

Joshua died with an "I love you" on his last breath and Hermione would be damned if she did any less. Till that day, she would make herself useful.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Severus watched intently as Hermione picked at her food. He noted that she didn't bring it to her mouth once, and that she contributed nothing to her friends' conversation. She seemed pre-occupied, but he didn't get close enough to see if it was a hang over or some emotional distress, something she had been no stranger to recently.

He kissed her, nearly made love to her not heeding to any hesitation. Just one more thing to complicate whatever relationship they had, he figured. The last thing that girl needed was for him to either use and discard her like a common whore or be dragged into a distructive relationship. As much as he longed to take care of her, things had to go back to the way they were.

_Right,_ he thought sarcastically._ She's going to look at me with those big brown eyes with a tempest of emotions going through them and I'll crumple under her gaze. She'll then unknowingly drag me around on a chain I've forged myself and bring me to my knees as I beg her not to shut me out._ He knew how it would play out all too well. Any resolve he had to leave her alone went away at the sight of her, any resolve she had to push him away was ultimately the only thing he could ignore about her. She was right, he needed her. No amount of chastising, by both himself and the girl, would keep him away from her for good.

He'd try of course, he had to give them sometime after what happened last night, but after he was over it he'd chase after her like an infatuated teenaged boy.

After finishing his meal he left to wander a new usual haunt of his.

The courtyard was empty, a cool breeze passed over him reminding him it was March in Scotland. The leaves on the old oak rustled with the wind, making the only sound in the small, lonely courtyard. A perfect environment for wondering about Hermione's heart condition.

He sat on the bench and wondered if she had a death sentence looming over her. Was she even trying to prolong her life if she had one? He imagined she must have been, otherwise she'd have never taken those pills that morning. It was clear she only saw the medication as preventative, she made that clear, but shouldn't she be taking something for her current condition? Why did she insist she was cured when she had a heart condition?

All these questions could only be answered by the one who refused to answer them. Hermione was going to have to prove she was taking care of herself somehow, he decided. It was important she did whatever she could to keep herself alive. He had no qualms with trying to help her through everything, in fact he wanted to, but if he was met with more attempts to push him away, he was ready to show her just how tenacious he could be.

If he couldn't keep himself away from her, he could at least be constant about that. It might just work to save her.

"You're not serious?" Ron asked sceptical of Hermione's story.

The group of them were sitting in the east tower under the stairwell as Hermione told them. They managed to avoid any unwanted followers and the east tower had been an easy enough haunt for when Hermione felt particularly musical. It was safe to tell them here. Expressions of disbelief were worn on all her friend's faces.

Harry shook his head in disapproval, and tried not to get too worked up over it. "Are you absolutely certain that's how it happened?"

Hermione rolled her eyes with a loud sigh to accompany it. She looked at the three of them knowing they were far too concerned with a minor detail. "Yes, that's exactly how it panned out. I was there, I know what I heard."

"You were also drunk," Ron pointed out, again.

"Minor detail," she brushed it off. "I don't know what they were talking about, but whatever it was had to be important. McGonnagal seemed to think only Snape could know for certain it was what they thought it was. And there must be several of them, where her exact words were 'Albus thinks he found one'. Those words seemed to make Snape excited, he was pretty eager saying the sooner it was identified the—well McGonnagal cut it off saying it was best he waited till morning to identify it."

"That doesn't make sense," Harry began. "If it was so important, why did McGonagal change her mind and tell him to wait till morning?"

"Do I look like a telepath, Harry?" Hermione asked now on the defensive. "All I know is what was said between them."

"Well," Ginny began. "What _exactly_ did she say when she told him to wait till the morning?"

" There was a pause and then she said 'I think it can wait till morning'."

"Because she didn't think he could identify it if he wasn't sober!" Ginny accused. "You said he found you at a bar, I'll bet he was drunk too."

"Great!" Ron scoffed. "So you both were drunk and alone together how long?"

"_Ron!_" she cried. "Don't you start, too! Honestly. Just because we were both drunk doesn't mean anything. I told you guys everything, and nothing happened!"

"You neglected to mention he was drunk too!" Ron argued. "And if nothing happened, why'd he have you hide under his desk?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "Because he was drunk? He just did!"

"I think it's curious he had you hide too," Harry admitted. "But if you say nothing happened, I believe you."

"Thank you," she smiled with relief."I'm just wondering what the thing they needed to identify was and how we find that out."

"Why don't you ask your new drinking buddy?" Ron seethed.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"That's not a bad idea, Hermione," Ginny piped up.

"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm just going to walk up to him and say, 'hey, what was it you and McGonagal were talking about last night? I know I'm normally up to some sort of mischief, but I'm just curious.' That'll go over well!"

"I agree with Hermione," Harry said. "He's not going to just tell her what they were talking about. Especially if has anything to do with Voldemort."

"I'm not saying she should out right ask him." Ginny began. "But if his precious little sweetheart happened to sleepwalk into a conversation, he would never suspect she overheard him."

"That'd be brilliant if he wouldn't stop talking about something top secret when he saw her walk into the conversation." Ron snorted.

"That's why I need to spy on them like normal until suspicions are aroused, " Hermione sighed assuming Ron would have seen it as obvious. "Once I'm caught, I act like I'm sleepwalking. Let's just hope they chose to talk about it in an empty corridor at night."

"Haven't you noticed they always do?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, despite the fact that they could do it in the safety of their offices, at the table when everybody is talking, or in one the hundreds of secret passage ways, or...I have to wonder if they want us to catch these top-secret conversations!" Hermione laughed.

"We'll do it tonight." Harry concluded. "Till then, let's get to class."

"Probably a good idea." Hermione agreed.

"What the hell happened to you?" Severus asked Slughorn whose face was swollen and purple.

"One of the first years decided it'd be hilarious to throw the toad stone early, not only did it explode, but it splashed me."

"An occupational hazard I know you've been dealing with far longer than I have," he sighed looking at the purple faced man who was being treated by an impatient looking Pomfrey. "I don't take it you asked me here to cry on my shoulder about it?"

"You know me too well," Slughorn agreed. "I want you to teach my last class."

"Can't you just cancel? I'm sure the students won't mind."

"Unlike some teachers, my classes are meticulously planned, I don't like to waste a moment as t stay on schedule. Instead of spending half my class bickering with sick little girls."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Word gets around fast, Severus," he pulled his face away so he could speak directly to him. "We all know she's sick, and that you won't let her forget it." He thought for a moment. "You know, Hermione Granger is in that class, so maybe I should just ask someone else."

"Don't bother. I'll do it." He growled. "Give me your lesson plan."

"Are you accepting because you want to torment Potter, to prove me wrong or is it to appeal to Granger?"

"I'm doing a co-worker a favour. Nothing more," he turned and walked away despising Slughorn.

Two outof three of the reasons the man listed were much more driving than he wished to admit. The last even exceeding his wounded pride. Hermione had skipped his class, again, and he wanted to see how she was. The amount of alcohol she drank would harm a healthy person, someone with a heart condition might suffer greatly from excess of alcohol...but would his presence upset her enough to make it worse?

_Grace Porter had made peace with dying. The sixteen-year-old cancer patient had relapsed four years ago and had stopped responding to treatments. Grace cried at first, angry at the world for allowing it to come back. But she made her peace. Grace had it all planned out. She would live life as normally as possible and let her friends and family know how much she cared about them daily. She hid the cancer, but wrote letters, pages in length, to everyone explaining everything. Grace held no grudge and lived the best way she could. She was sure she would be ready when her end drew near._

_Grace Lynn Porter made peace with dying. That is, until he came along._

_Gracie looked out the window by her hospital bed and stared at the moon as she let the murmur of night nurses fade away. All Gracie had for the longest time were her friends, clinging to whatever normalcy they could provide as she hid behind her books and poetry building a fortress she thought no one could break. Or so she thought._

_Gracie thought back to her lover Joshua as she stared at the glowing moon. She was glad the doctors made him go home and get some sleep. He was tearing himself apart as he watched her, he wouldn't even eat anymore. As he watched her deteriorate, he did himself. Gracie missed him and hated dragging him into everything._

_She remembered vividly how quickly Joshua became a part of her life. _

'_Gracie?" he approached her with a serious expression on his face._

'_Joshua?' she asked perplexed by his expression._

'_What're you reading?'_

_Gracie held up her book to show him the title. 'I'm reading all the books on Tal Bachman's British List of Contempary books. If I'm ambitious, I might move on to the European one and the American one."_

" _Aren't there a hundred books on each list?"_

'_Yes.'_

'_Can I speak with you?'_

'_You already are, Joshua,' Gracie sighed not taking her eyes off her book._

'_Gracie,' he returned her sigh. 'Please put the book down.'_

_Rolling her eyes, she complied putting it down, marking her page. 'What do you want, Joshua?'_

'_I'm trying, Gracie,' he touched her cheek lightly. 'But I don't know what the hell to do with you.'_

'_Ignore me then.'_

'_But I—I care about you, deeply. And I'm inspired by you, Gracie, I want to be with you.'_

'_That's a load of bullshit.' She left the park bench and began her way home._

'_Gracie!' he called after her._

'_Leave me alone!' she called back._

'_Gracie, please! I'm just trying—'_

'_You haven't any clue how to be someone's friend, do you?'_

_Joshua had caught up to her at this point and held her arm, pulling her in. 'I don't want to be your friend, Gracie.'_

'_What do you want then!'_

'_I want you!' he placed his hands on her cheeks. 'I want nothing more than to be with you. And you want to be with me too, but you're too scared to admit it.'_

'_And why the hell would I be scared?' she hissed tears welling up in her eyes, knowing full well the things he said were true. She felt her heart break with each word._

'_Because if someone was with you you wouldn't be able to hide behind your books, your poetry, your telescope or your bloody songs.'_

_Gracie had a reason to hide. She couldn't fall in love with him. Joshua deserved someone who would live long enough to be with him, and Gracie couldn't have someone she was afraid to leave. She prepared for everyone, but not him._

_Joshua ignored her scorn and pressed his lips against hers. At first she was shocked, too shocked to do anything, and by time she remembered her objections, she had melted into his embrace and returned the kiss as fervently. _

'_Gracie,' he whispered. 'I love you.'_

_Tears sprang to Gracie's eyes immediately as her shattered heart dropped to the floor. It wasn't fair! She loved him too, but she couldn't risk—she couldn't be in his life, for both their sakes!_

'_I need to leave!' she turned to run away sobbing._

_Joshua had followed her to down as far as she could ran. Gracie sat crumpled beneath the large oak near the edge of the park. He sat beside her and held her face and stared into her eyes touching his forehead to hers._

'_Don't leave me in the dark, Gracie.' He whispered. 'What's wrong?'_

'_I'm sick.' Gracie bit her lip as more sobs came._

'_It's alright, I'll walk you home—'_

'_No, Joshua,' she shook her head. 'Listen to me, please.'_

_Silence._

'_I'm sick,' she took in a deep breath as she prepared to bare her soul. 'I have heart cancer.'_

_His dark eyes widened in shock and his mouth hung slightly open. He didn't believe her. 'No, Gracie, you're—you're sixteen—you're fine.'_

'_No, Joshua,' she cried. 'Listen to me, please! I've had it for four years,' she shrugged as torrents streamed down her face. 'I've stopped responding to treatments. I was told to just live out the rest of my life as normally as possible. And I was. I accepted it. I made peace with dying. But then you come waltzing into my life and—Oh, God, Joshua! I love you too, but I-' she sobbed into her knees after this. _

_An eternity passed before she could string words together once more. Oxygen became fire in her lungs as she tried to breath and her heart fluttered in her chest causing pain almost as unbearable as the baring of her soul. Finally, she could speak between sobs and wheezes. 'I have six months left to love, Joshua. I'm dying.'_

"Hermione Jean Granger, get that bloody quill out of your mouth before I take it," called a voice tearing her away from her writing.

She looked at the voices owner and closed her note book. She wasn't looking forward to a class of verbal abuse. Hermione looked at the voice's owner with tired eyes and a disappointed posture. It was potions class, but it wasn't Slughorn who stood before her.

"If you're going to insist on acting like my mother, I'm going to start calling you 'Momma'." Hermione said in an exasperated tone.

Snape walked up to the front of the classroom with a cruel smirk. "You can call me whatever you like, my _darling daffodil_. Though I can think of many reasons you'd be far more uncomfortable than me with doing that."

The classroom roared with laughter, Hermione slammed her head against her desk, she knew exactly what he was imply was exactly what they were laughing at. The burst of laughter didn't last long, it wasn't even a few seconds before Snape shut them up.

"If any of you are wondering why I'm here, Professor Slughorn had a bit of a problem and asked me to substitute."

Harry's jaw clenched. Slughorn had been oblivious to the aid he had been using. Hermione knew as well as Harry it'd be easier for Snape to catch on. The man was far too attentive for Hermione's taste. She returned to her writing. If she couldn't figure out where to go next in the story she'd write another poem. She would delve deeper into her world of ink and words until she could thoroughly ignore him.

Severus was tempted to call on Hermione when she didn't raise her hand, but inciting another argument and embarrassing the girl wouldn't get him anywhere. Calling her on not paying attention could wait. He'd let her write her bitter poetry and songs and she could suffer the consequences later. For now he had forty-three other students to worry about.

"You normally aren't so sloppy," he noted as Hermione attacked drio roots with shaking hands.

"Sometimes my hands shake. I've been dealing with it since I was a child." Hermione set the knife down but didn't look at him. "Don't act like it's new or something to be worried about."

"If you can't control your hands," he said taking the knife before she could take it back. "I don't want you handling a blade."

Hermione rolled her eyes and dug opened a book and pulled out a sheet of paper, she jotted somethings down quickly and handed it to him. "Will this suffice?"

He glossed over her notes and nodded. "It'll do for now. Though I'll write a note to Professor Slughorn saying that you are to meet with him sometime to prove you can do this more than on paper."

"And how is she supposed to do that?" Weasley asked. "You just said she isn't allowed handling knives?"

"For now. I'm sure she doesn't always lack control, or I'd have serious objections to her handling a wand."

"I'm sure that'll happen soon enough." He grumbled.

"Drop it, Ron," Hermione said not looking up from her writing.

"Hermione, he's treating you like a child," he appealed. "This is ridiculous!"

"She can't control her hands, she runs a risk of hurting anyone in this room, _including herself_." Severus turned his gaze to Hermione, who was still absorbed in her writing. "I hardly think I'm being unreasonable. Do you, Granger?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the honest answer to," she sang still writing.

"Don't get cheeky with me, little girl," he sneered. "It's not my fault your sick." He put the knife back down in front of her. "Don't prove me right."

Hermione exchanged looks with Potter and Weasley, the exchange ended with her folding over after a shrug and returning to her writing. She still didn't tell them. Severus wondered if she would ever tell them, if they knew what she was doing to herself—

_There's no way they don't know something's wrong with her by now. They'll still drag her into all of this, they know how she hates being made idle, and they think her being happy beats her being alive...the idiots._ He stared at Hermione as he thought. She finished quickly, her shaking hands providing little hindrance. She wrote until engaged in conversation by Longbottom. Potter and Weasley whispered things she ignored. A fool would know they were talking about her illness.

He desperately wished Hermione would grow up. She was sick, and everyone knew by now, despite her best efforts. Why couldn't she just come clean and save everyone the effort? After all, she told him...after drinking enough to make him worry about her acquiring another health problem.

After enough time passed he made his rounds with a clip board to evaluate the potions. He was surprised to see Longbottom's was without any mistakes. There was slight evidence his ingredients were cut poorly, but other than that, it was perfect. He noted it down quickly and made eye contact with the boy. "I'm impressed. Who knew it would only take you six years to manage to make a potion correctly." He sighed. "I suppose even the village idiot will have is day, so why not you."

He moved on to Hermione who sat beside the boy reading an old worn paper back titled _A Walk to Remember_ (by Nicolas Sparks). She didn't so much as acknowledge him, he didn't know if she was absorbed or if she was ignoring him. Both were unacceptable. And so were the contents of her cauldron.

"This is quite curious," he probed. "Five years of teaching this very subject and not once have you managed to be wrong. How is it the day you managed to be wrong happens on the only day he manages to be right?"

Hermione turned the page of her novel and spoke without interest. "Coincidence. It happens. You said it yourself, I'm sloppier today."

"Give me that damn book," he groaned.

She handed it over to him without hesitation.

"What the hell's so fascinating about this anyway?" he asked opening to the first page actually reading the first page.

"The girl dies of Leukaemia in the end."

He shut the book to see she began to write again. "I'll take that as well."

With an eye roll she handed it to him and took to looking at her feet.

"I'm done beating around the bush," he began. "You traded with him, didn't you?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you've been trying to get me to recognize the boy's supposed intelligence for years," he sighed and resisted the urge to hold her face and make her look at him. "Frankly, I don't know why you bother."

"Maybe I just messed up," she sighed and looked cielingward. "I hardly see reason to think I traded. You're paranoid. Just because you're not well liked doesn't mean we're conspiring against you."

"If you're telling the truth, why can't you look at me?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You'll find what you're looking for whether it's there or not," she sighed looking him in the eye with a challenging expression.

He wasn't ready to look her in the eye. He thought he was, but he was bombarded with memories from last night. It was all too vivid, her melting into his embrace, the feel of her lips on his, the look in her eyes when they were about to—

"You've gone too far ," he turned his head after a moment. "Longbottom! You idiot!" he snapped. "You're so unwilling to try that you'd just do it wrong and decide to trade with a sympathetic person who did it right? Granger might be a sympathetic fool who can easily be taken advantage, but I'm not..." his rant carried on like this for a while before he saw Hermione.

Her skin was flushed pink despite her poor circulation, her hands were balled into shaking fists at her side and she looked at her feet as she bit her lip hard enough for it to bleed. "Is something wrong, sweetheart?"

"What ever makes you think that, _my dear professor_?" her words dripped with sarcasm.

"You're barley containing it." He stated. "Your hands are clentched tightly. And shaking, the trembling's something I've attributed to anger. Despite your poor circulation you're flushed pink, and I don't see why you would be shredding your lip apart if nothing was wrong. Which brings me to repeat myself, is something wrong, _my dear girl_?"

"You already have the answer," she looked back up at him, a fire burning in her eyes, he was prepared this time. "You're a smart man, you've probably figured it out. "

"Humour me."

"When the hell are you going to learn to back down?" she asked bluntly. "There is so much we have to deal with here. We have to deal with all the petty dramas that came with being a teenager, but that's nothing compared to the fact we have to deal with the ever-present spector of failure, and even the ever-present spector of death! " Hermione now trembled thoughout her body. "The ever present spector of Severus Snape is too much for us to deal with."

"You'll be dealing with my presence more," he said coolly. "Seeing as you now have detention with me though the rest of the year. Don't try my patience, little girl."

"I've already tried it!" she hissed. "You're so insecure you have to take us all down several pegs to feel like you're worth anything and it's disgusting. You're a child! You pick on Harry because his father picked on you when you were kids, get over it! You pick on Neville because it's easy to feel superior when someone's so easily intimidated by you. You rub your intelligence in our faces when we make mistakes because you know it's the only thing you have. We get it, you're a very smart man, it's hard to miss when you're carrying it around like a security blanket and you hide behind surliness because you know if we ever saw who you really are we would tear you to pieces."

"I would take a good long look in the mirror before you criticize me for that," he growled.

"I'm done hiding." She raised an eyebrow challenging him.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he dismissed the topic. "And what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything!"

"Care to elaborate?" he said coolly. "And if you could leave out the metaphors I would be grateful. Do you think you can do that, _daffodil_?"

"Your bloody insecurity relates directly to this because everybody in this room, _including you_, know Neville's and everyone else's mistakes are a result of you being unable to teach! A moron can see your methods are ineffective!"

"You seem to be doing fine in my class."

Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh and rummaged in her bag until she pulled out yet another novel, this one being _The Fellowship of the Ring_(byJRR Tolkien). "I've learnt more magic from this than I have from you in nearly six years!"

"That explains why your potion's the wrong colour." He took the book from her hands and put it on top of the pile in his hands. "Stop bringing novels to class, I'm certain you'd fair better if you read something related to the subject if you find yourself with extra time in , of course, you think you'll have to learn how destroy a fictitious ring or learn about the trials and tribulations of a young girl with leukaemia. But I can assure you, neither of those things will be dealt with in any class I teach."

Hermione fished out nine more books, one of them being a well-used and abused book of poetry. "I have a short attention span, so I read several books at a time."

"I never would have guessed," he took the other books, "You'll get these back after the term ends. For the time being if my methods anger you so damn much I believe you know where the door is," he bluffed pointing knowing she wouldn't leave.

Hermione drew her wand and cleaned the cauldron out. She shoved it into her bag along with her note book and text book. She slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way to the door, he waited for her to envitably turn around. She was at the door when she did.

"Predictable," he smirked.

"For the record I'm not angry with you," she said, "I pity you."

With this she turned back to the door to leave. Severus was surprised by her choice, but he was more surprised by her comment. He knew she pitied him, but for some reason it surprised him she'd say it before the whole class. And for obvious reasons, it infuriated him.

"I change my mind," he said grabbing her arm. "You can stick around for a while."

"Let go of me!" she cried.

He did. "Sit back down and we'll discuss the terms of your first detention after class."

"Of course, sir," she smiled and curtsied before taking her seat.

The classroom erupted into laughter at the gesture. Hermione smirked and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Now, what'll you do?'

He met her challenging expression with another one hoping she could read the 'I've barely started with you.'

She reopened her notebook and poised her quill as if to wait for his next move. She'd pay attention, but he reasoned it wouldn't be without the exchange of covert taunts. This amused him enough to make him glad he stopped her from leaving. Whatever this fight was about, he was sure to win.

Ron watched Hermione's blue fingers clutch her desk with a white knuckled grip. She looked up to see her gasping for air as her brown eyes darted around the room. She wavered slightly as she strived for balance. Her lips had become more blue, and he touched her freezing hand.

"Hermione?" Harry tried to get a response from her, but her eyes only drifted toward him.

"Is she alright?" Ron whispered to him as he watched her struggle for air.

"I'm not sure," he whispered back raising his hand. "Something's wrong with Hermione!"

"I'm aware," Snape, who had already been rushing toward her, said kneeling beside her. "Can you hear me?"

She only gasped trying to take in more air. Face had been stark white, her skin was cold, her mouth hung open with bloodless lips and her brown eyes darted between the three of them.

"Make a noise! Tap the desk! Blink! Do something to acknowledge me, girl!"

Hermione blinked once and steadied her gaze for all of a second before her eyes began darting around again. Ron was surprised to see he was just as scared as they were. He stared at her fear plain in his face as he watched her struggle for every breath.

"Come on," he said softly, more softly than Ron had ever known him to speak. He leaned her against him as he very slowly rose.

The two stood for a moment facing eachother. Hermione still gasped for air wavering before she went completely limp in Snape's arms.


	16. She's sick

"If a soul leaves this room while I take her to the hospital wing there will be hell to pay!" Snape warned as he lifted Hermione's limp body.

"I bet she's dying." Malfoy said smugly.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"You see it don't you?" he sang. "She's always fainting, she's thin, she's pale and she certainly acts like she's dying. I give her a month."

"Oh, and where are you getting this prognosis from?" Harry demanded. "She hasn't told us and she sure as hell never told you!"

Malfoy laughed making Ron's stomach churn. "That mudblood's about as healthy as she is pure. Everyone knows it."

"That's it!" Ron yelled drawing his wand and pointing at him. "I'm sick of you speaking rubbish about Hermione! You take that back right now!"

"I'm sure you know the truth, Weasley," he sneered. "We all do."

"Hermione's not dying," Harry glared at Malfoy stepping between the two.

As if on cue Snape returned to the classroom fuming as he saw the scene unfolding before him. Anger crossed his face for a brief second and it returned to its somber expression. "She'll be fine, Potter." He turned his gaze to Ron. "Put your wand away, Weasley."

He told everyone to return to their seats as he walked to the front of the classroom. "I don't know what transpired here, and I don't care." He addressed the class with a deadened tone. "I have never seen such a disgusting display of immaturity from all my time teaching here. I should have known I can't turn my back on any of you from past experience. I expected better of you all under the circumstances."

Ron saw Dean shake his head as a peice of paper came his way. Instead of passing it to him, Dean simply turned it over and set it down. The other side seemed to offend him more as he snorted with dirision as he shook his head. He covered it with his book to keep it out of his sight.

"What's on that sheet of paper, Mr. Thomas?" Snape asked walking toward him. "It must be simply awful for you to react that way."

Dean lifted the book of the piece of paper and handed it to him, the less offensive side up. "You;ll agree with it less than I did." He warned.

Ron felt his blood boil as he saw Snape raise the paper. The side he held away from him was repulsive enough to make Ron sick. It was a drawing depicting a teacher wrapping his arms around his female student and pinning her against his desk as he kissed her passionately. The female student had her eyes wide open in shock and her hands pressed against his chest. The drawing was clearly of Hermione and Snape.

"You might want to turn it over," Ron advised. "Fair warning, it will probably be more offensive than the side you're looking at."

A reddening Snape turned the sheet over to see the side that depicted him kissing Hermione. He stood there stupefied for a moment, his mouth hung open slightly as he stared at it, with hate, fear, and disgust registering in his face after the initial shock. Ron could see the other side depicted Snape shouting as he strangled a very distressed Hermione with a caption above the picture saying "What's he really thinking?"

He shredded the drawing into peices. "You people disgust me!" he seethed. "Who the hell drew this?"

Silenece.

"I have ways of finding out." He snarled. "And I assure you the artist will be properly credited for his work."

Another uncomfortable silence passed. Ron pondered on who would be so interested in humiliating both Hermione and Snape. The Slytherins liked Snape enough not to depict him snogging a muggle-born, and though Hermione was far from being well-liked, he couldn't think of anyone who'd want to humiliate her like that after her attack.

The bell rang ending the double potions class.

"Get out of my sight!" Snape yelled.

Everyone was more than happy to comply, a mosh-pit formed at the door. Students eager to leave the heavy aired room filed out like they were leaving a burning building. Harry and Ron couldn't get through the scramble, and when an opening appeared they heard a voice call them back.

The three of them stood in the empty classroom as another uncomfortable silence passed. The two looked at their teacher confused as for the first time, Severus Snape was at a loss for words.

"I want to start off by saying I know neither of you had anything to do with that drawing," he began as if hoping to lower the hostility.

"Then why did you ask us to stay behind?" Harry asked, his voice lacking its hostility it possessed when he spoke with Snape.

Ron caught on with great dismay. "Is she going to be okay?"

"For now, Weasley," he sighed making deliberate eye contact.

Harry's eyes widened and his skin paled, as Ron imagined his own did. "What do you mean 'for now'?"

Snape looked at Harry with an unfamiliar sad expression. "She's sick, Potter."

"But she'll be alright, won't she?" Harry asked as Ron lost all words.

"I don't know. It's serious." He broke eye contact, took a deep breath and re-established it.

Ron's heart dropped at the words. How seriously ill could she be? Was she going to be alright? Why hadn't she told someone before? And then the question he tried to push from his mind, _Is she dying?_

Harry took another route, the one Hermione was all too fond of. Denial. "You can't be certain, I mean she was fine until a few moments ago."

He sighed with a light shake of his head. "I think you and I both know she's been sick for a while. Denying it will do no good. Niether for you nor her."

"You;re wrong, then!" Harry shouted taking his usual defence.

"I wish I was, Potter," Snape sighed with unfamiliar resignation that disturbed Ron.

Ron gulped as he finally found his words. "Level with us. How serious is it?"

"I'm beginning to think I'm the wrong person to tell you this," he leaned against his desk, black eyes staring into Ron's.

"If you don't who will?" Ron asked.

"Hermione herself, perhaps?" he suggested, believing it about as much as Ron did.

Harry shook his head. "I think all three of us know she wouldn't tell us even if she were dying."

"I know that far better than either of you do," he sighed. "Perhaps you two should sit down."

"Please," Ron began. "Just tell us."

"She has a serious heart condition." Snape began running a hand through his hair anxiously. "I don't have many details, you're probably aware of the fact she isn't particularly generous with the details. But it seems she thinks her life span's been shortened by a good bit."

"How long does she have?" Harry askedcautiously.

"I don't know, Potter."


	17. Unravelling

"I swear," Pomfrey began, "You're here to see her more than her friends."

Severus looked at the chalky white girl lying in the bed. "Why didn't you tell me she had a heart condition?"

"It was none of your buissness."

Severus felt a twinge of guilt for betraying the confidence she never meant to give him. But her friends had to know. She couldn't keep the fact that she was dying from the people who loved her. If she was protecting them, she should have known that it would be harder if she passed away and they found out she had been suffering years before hand...did she even have years?

"You're always so sad," Hermione whispered with a cracked voice when he took her hand. "Lighten up."

"I will when you're better," he said with resolve as he checking her pulse. "At least you're in high spirits."

"What reason wouldn't I have high spirits?" she asked with a smile. "I'm alive and healthy with more blessings than I can count."

Severus couldn't bear to say anything to remove that weak smile. He couldn't bring the reality of her illness upon her after she'd been put through so much. Some of it because of him, he knew this. Despite all of the old sayings he familiarized himself with, he couldn't let her go despite the fact he loved her. He couldn't let her go _because_ he loved her. Letting her go meant something terrifying to him, perhaps if he clung on to her, she would cling on to life. He wasn't willing to give her up, even if she was.

"You are one strange little girl," he smiled sitting at her feet. "You clearly see better through rose coloured lenses than I could."

"I don't need rose coloured lenses, silly," he imagined she might have rolled her eyes had they been open.

"I imagine you're feeling better."

"With each passing day,"

"I at least have that to be grateful for." He touched his hand to her cheek lightly. "I have every intention of seeing you through this, Hermione."

"I know you do," she smiled. "I think you're my guardian angel."

Severus's heart stopped for a moment. She just called him her guardian angel. _I'm far from being an angel, Hermione._ What scared him the most is that he wanted to be her angel. He wanted nothing more to watch over her and take care of her. But her acknowledging it, and addressing him so affectionately made him weak in the knees. It made him think of desires that shouldn't see the light of day if he gave a damn about her.

"I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Hermione." He spoke softly.

"Of course you wouldn't," she giggled. "You always sell yourself short. You have no clue how truly amazing you are, do you?"

"Hermione I—"

"I love you," she whispered making Severus's heart both leap for joy and fall to the floor with a paralyzing fear.

She loved him. Isn't that what he wanted? To have and hold her for the rest of their lives? Severus shook his head as he looked at the girl sadly. It was what he wanted, but he knew better, even if she didn't. He couldn't, as much as he wanted let her continue with it. She was sick, but she would get better. Severus still saw himself dying before the war was over, and even if he didn't, he would leave her a long time before she would pass.

_Did you expect to die in her arms with three children and fat little grandchildren years from now?_ He scoffed knowing he could never provide her with what he wanted for her...

"Herm—"

"I love you, Joshua."

_Joshua!_ He gaped at the girl as he tried to wrap his head around what she said again. He walked a thin line between relief and disappointment. She had been sleeping the entire conversation. She didn't think any of those things about _him,_ she loved a boy named Joshua and thought of him as her guardian angel. He wondered who this Joshua was and if he deserved to be thought of that way.

_Whoever you are, Joshua, you had better take good care of her._

Hermione drank the navita she'd stashed away in the out of order girls' toilet. She didn't care if Moaning Myrtle was a witness to her self-medication. She had stopped taking the pills three days before, but despite she didn't a have to deal with the side-effects of the pills, she still needed the potion to give her anything resembling energy.

Hiding her illness was becoming more and more difficult, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was because of Snape or if she'd just gotten sloppy. Being cancer-free, she shouldn't be drawing the attention to it now, when she relapsed at twelve. Then again at fourteen. The cancer always found a way to come back, that's why Hermione needed her heart taken out of her.

"_Momma?"_

_Siobhan took the three year old girl and pulled her into her lap. She held the crying child for a while as she assured her she'd be okay._

"_Hey," she whispered, "You know I won't let anything happen to my little daffodil."_

_Hermione nestled into her mother's chest not understanding why she was in that awful place or why the mean doctors were going to make her lay on that cold steel table as they stuck needles into her again. Her mother promised her that the doctors were trying to help her, but how sick was she for the treatments to be so horrible? _

"_Momma?"_

"_Yes, daffodil?"_

"_What's cancer?"_

Hermione brushed her hair from her face and found a tear rolling down her cheek. Her childhood was haunted by the cancer. Since she was three she had to deal with the constant probing, needles, scans and those dreadful expressions everyone seemed to wear around her these days betraying the fact they knew she was sick.

"I haven't any clue where to go from here, Joshua," she sighed looking up to the ceiling.

"Who are you talking to?" Myrtle giggled.

"My fevered imagination, I guess."

Hermione left the toilets to meet Harry and Ron. She tried to push the grim thoughts from her mind as she moved on. She was released from the hospital and she just wanted to listen in and help scheming like before. She wanted things to be normal again.

_Things will never be normal by now. They;ve probably figured it out, Harry and Ron aren't that thick._

"How's our girl?" Ron asked as he 'helped' her into the bench at the table.

"If you and Harry adopted me," Hermione began shrugging him off. "I'm filing for emancipation."

"Nonsense," Ron said with a full mouth. "We'd be brilliant parents! We would put a stop to all this studying nonsense right away."

Hermione giggled and pulled out _Sonnets of the Portuguese _(Compellation of sonnets by Elizabeth Barret-Browning! (Honestly, read it!)) and hid her face behind the book.

"Couldn't you read in the hospital wing?" Ron pouted. "We'd like to spend time with you too."

"If you're going to insist on making jokes like that, I'm probably safer buried in poetry," she spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. "Also I'm using it to hide my face. That joke was so bad _I'm_ ashamed."

Ginny and Harry cracked into laughter and each pulled out a text book of their own, mimicking her.

"She's right, Ron," Harry nodded. "It was bad."

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

Hermione giggled as she enjoyed the normal taunts and light-hearted insults. The four of them rarely got to share such an innocent, carefree moment. It was as if Hermione never had the attack. She dreaded for the moment to end, but alas, all good things come to an end, and her perfect moment did.

Harry's face sobered and made eye-contact as she picked at her food. "There's something we need to talk to you about."

Severus watched Hermione laugh lightly with the others. All of them were behaving as if nothing happened. As much as he'd like to see Potter and Weasley talk to her about it, he was glad to see her happy. It pained him to watch her go through everything she had gone through. It seemed like a smile that wasn't forced was a true rarity.

He felt petty when he thought of Joshua. He pictured the boy differently each time, the only thing that remained the same was that he had Hermione in his arms. Sometimes he was the best possible person, smart, charming, kind and perfect. Other times he was an awful person who he could save her from, and he was also everything in between. As much as he enjoyed the fantasy of whisking her away, he hoped Joshua was the former.

He debated whether or not they needed to talk about what happened between them. He would have made love to her then and there if they had not been interrupted. The implications of that were not only frightening, but paralyzing. It was only made worse when he thought about the fact she already had someone. How could she just melt into the embrace of a man she couldn't stand when she had someone else who she loved?

_A night of libertine desires_ she called it. She was willing to go to bed with a man she barely knew before their little transaction. It didn't make sense to him that someone like her would do that with someone waiting for her either back at the school or back home for her. What would possess someone with such strong morals to do that?

He imagined it was possible that her feelings for this Joshua fellow were unrequited. Though he found her to be beautiful, her beauty wasn't the common kind, and even then was hidden. She hid, from everything. From her friends, from her illness, from him, and from herself. She must have hid from Joshua too.

Growing dreary, he thought of everything surrounding her. There most obviously was the war she delved into too willingly, then there, of course, was her heart condition. On top of the pressing issues, there were the little things, being the unrequited love. Both he and Weasley were in love with her, and she couldn't be more clueless. She loved this Joshua and he was as oblivious to her as she was to him.

_She won't be oblivious for long..._Severus thought, deciding when the time was right he would tell her he was in love with her. If he survived to see the end of the war, he would tell her exactly how he felt leaving nothing out. He wouldn't be able to stand another love unspoken. She would likely run into the arms of her Joshua in the end, but at least he had the satisfaction of telling her.

Should he die before the war was over he decided to write her a letter and find a way to be sure it found her after the fact.

Severus got up leaving his food untouched as he set out for his office.

"Is something wrong, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, blue eyes twinkling with more insight than he was comfortable with.

"I have a letter to write."

"Who the hell told you that?" Hermione demanded of her friends as they stood around in the Room of Requirement.

Harry and Ron exchanged dismayed looks and then both looked at their feet as if there was some shame in the identity of their informant. Hermione immediately knew who told them at this. _Of course it was him! He;s the only one I told! I'll never drink again!_

Hermione went to walk away from her friends when Ron and Harry each took an arm preventing her from leaving. She felt so utterly helpless as they set her on the floor and sat crosslegged beside her. Ginny completed the circle sitting across from Hermione. Hermione simply drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them.

"I don't understand, Hermione," Harry began. "Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped you."

"I couldn't tell," Hermione sobbed. "I just couldn't!"

An uncomfortable silence passed as all of them stared at her as she sobbed. No one knew what to do or say. Hermione's mind spun as her world came crashing down. How much did they know? Did they know she was dying? How much more did Snape know? Did he tell them all he knew? The lack of specifics didn't ease her mind as much as she imagined. They might know everything and just be telling her some of it.

"Why couldn't you tell us?" Ron asked voice deciding between softness to ease an answer and comfort her and a harsh accusing tone to make her feel guilty.

"I couldn't have everyone acting weird around me!"

"Including us?" Ron yelled, his voice finally making a decision.

"Especially you!" she cried. "You're my best friends! I couldn't have you guys see me any different! I kept it from you because the only time I ever feel normal is when I'm with you!"

"Because putting your life on the nearly yearly is perfectly normal." Harry now joined the sarcasm.

"That's the other reason!" she screamed. "We're trying to prevent a war here, guys! I can't have you distracted by my illness giving Voldemort and his death eaters the advantage!"

"Should you even be bothering with this when you're sick?" Ron snapped.

"_Ron!_" Hermione shrieked feeling tears burn her eyes."Don't you think I understand the risk I'm taking? I'm not an idiot! I've been sick since I was three, I know exactly what I'm doing could kill a healthy person and my chances are even more slim! I'd sooner die for a reason!"

"Hermione..." Ginny finally spoke and stared at her as if she were truly seeing her long time friend for the first time.

"Ginny, please," Hermione pleaded.

"That's practically suicide, Hermione!" Ron yelled again. "One sick girl being a martyr won't do anything, so why can't you just concentrate on getting better?"

"God, Ron! Don't you think I get enough of that from Snape?"

"Obviously not!" Ginny snapped. "Are you doing anything to take care of yourself?"

Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her composure, she rose. Her knees shook as she walked for the door. They didn't stop her this time. Hermione picked up pace as she walked down the corridor she decided exactly where she was going.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I_

Severus scratched the letters out, finding a new appreciation for pencils and erasers. He racked his brain as he thought of a way to tell her. He thought it'd be easier to write now that he was undoubtedly certain he was in love with her. He nearly told her that night he nearly made love to her. He was a breath away from telling her when McGonagal knocked. So if he came so close, why couldn't he write it on a scrap of paper she might not see for years?

The balls of crumpled paper on the floor proved how hard this letter was to write. Why couldn't he gather his courage for this when he routinely put his life on the line?

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I spent too long beading about the bloody bush, so I'm going to be frank. I love you. I'm not exactly sure when the feelings developed, but I know I'll have loved you till the day I died. I couldn't go without telling you in some way._

_I know this must come as a shock to you. Believe me, it shocked me just as much, but one day I'm minding my own buissness and I see this girl lying beneath a tree, so frail and helpless. I looked into those beautiful brown eyes of yours, so filled with contempt and pity, and I realized I wanted nothing more in my life than to take care of you. _

_You are so_

An irritated rapping at his door interrupted his writing. He rolled his eyes and set his letter in a drawer in his desk. He opened the door to see who his impatient visitor was and was more than surprised to see the woman he was writing to standing before him.

Hermione stood before him, her hands balled in shaking fists, her eyes looked as if they were about to brim over and she held her body rigid as she shot daggers that pierced his heart.

"You son of a bitch," her voice broke as it twisted the knife in his heart. "You told!"

Hermione, I—"

"Don't you _dare_ try and justify what you did!" Hermione hissed.

Severus was intimidated by the girl standing in his doorway. He towered over her and was much stronger, both physically and magically, than her, but she didn't realize she held his heart in her teeth. The angry eyes holding him still he wished looked at him with love instead. He wanted to stop the flow of tears cascading down her pretty face, to wrap his thin undeserving arms around her.

That would prove difficult when he was the reason she was so hurt.

"I'm not going to, Hermione," he said with a coolness that assaulted his ears and heart. "I don't need to. I know what I did was right."

"Right?" she chocked. "I hardly see how any of that was right! You bast—"

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you insult me," he sighed. "I should be stripping your house of whatever points and throwing you in detention. But where you're so distraught I'm compelled to let it slide, and it simply isn't possible for me to add any more detentions—"

"Exactly who are you trying to distract by acting as if this is normal?" she cried.

"Distract, Granger?"

"Don't pretend you haven't the slightest clue what I'm talking about!" she snapped. "My Aunt's a psychiatrist, I'm plenty familiar with those tricks!"

"Your aunt has made you more suspicious of me than you need be, then," he concluded. "I may not be the most morally superior being on the planet, but not even I care to manipulate a sick little girl." He looked at the small girl trembling with anger. "What does that say about your aunt, I wonder?"

"If you're aiming to upset me," she began, voice burning with wounding intent. "Congratulations, you've done it."

"Don't give me credit where it isn't due, sweetheart," he regretted the words as soon as they leapt from his mouth. "You came here upset."

Hermione rolled her teary eyes. "You;'re despicable,"

A silence passed between the two as they stared eachother down. Standing across from one another he could see the pain from his betrayal plain on her face. He was pathetic enough to entertain the idea of begging her forgiveness, but it would do no good. She needed people to look out for her, he wasn't wrong to warn her friends...So why couldn't he look into those beautiful brown eyes burning with anger without shame?

"I—" he began and changed his mind as he took her by the crook of her arm. "There's no need for us to be having this conversation in the doorway. Get in here."

He pulled Hermione in without much force, he at least wanted the illusion she chose to follow his lead. He wasn't sure who the illusion was more important to. With Hermione's condition the illusion of choice in a world with the odds stacked against her where she was forced to comply with so many was important. But feeling as if Hermione would willingly follow his lead was invaluable to him.

_Look at her! We both know that won't ever happen. There's no way she'd follow me willing. She let me hold her once, I can't be foolish enough to believe that would ever happen again. I know I'll be devastated when I'm proved wrong if I do._

"Now, is there any chance you can tell me what you're doing here?" he spoke cooly.

"You know why I'm here." She spat.

"I suppose you're right..." he sighed as his pain and guilt mounted. "I know you feel—"

Hermione burst out into cynical laughter, her pain rang with each cackle, giving the dagger in his heart another twist. "_You know nothing!"_ she seethed. "How can you say you know how I feel? Know what? Tell me! How do I feel?"

"A multitude of things I imagine," he admitted. "But first and foremost, betrayed."

Hermione looked at him, her mouth hung open for a brief moment, she hadn't expected him to know. She didn;t think he could understand.

"Am I right?"

"You're right," she admitted, edge not leaving her voice. "Of course I feel betrayed. I told you that in confidence!"

"You had no intention of telling my about your condition, " he explained. "It was a confidence you never meant to give, I had no idea you would even remember telling me."

"And I suppose that makes it alright?"

"I can't betray a trust I never had in the first place, Hermione."

She looked at him blankly for a moment. If possible she seemed even angrier than before, she began trembling once more, but settled. She stood still and rigid like a wiry flower encased bybarbed wire afraid to tilt toward the sun.

"_And you wonder why I never gave you it!" _she shrieked.

"Hermione,wait! I—"

It was too late the girl had left slamming the door behind her.

"Love you." He finished slumping into his chair.

"Are we still planning on figuring out what the hell Snape and McGonagal were talking about?" Hermione demanded of her friends.

"We can't," Harry explained. "Not with..."

"Hermione can do it!" Luna argued in everyone;s surprise, catching Hermione off guard. "If anyone can slip under the radar in plain sight it'd be her."

"And how the hell is she supposed to hide she knows when Snape is going to be watching her every move?" Ron asked.

"It's easy, isn't it?" Luna asked simply standing beside Hermione taking her hand. "He will be too distracted by her to pay attention to her."

Ron groaned audibly and shot blue daggers at Luna. "How the hell does that work?"

In a flash of brilliance Hermione caught the gears turning behind Luna's grey eyes. She knew exactly what Luna was thinking. "I just have to be especially vulnerable—"

"You're as mental as she is!" Ron yelled. "How is you being vulnerable going to make him forget there was a chance you heard?"

"You;ve all see how he forgets the world around him when I have my attacks!" Hermione argued. "If people are going to know about my condition I might as well use it to my advantage!"

"And how do you think he'll react when Pomfrey tells him you were faking?" Harry asked.

"I don't plan on faking, Harry," she admitted. "I want to induce an attack."

Gasps escaped her friends as she was held with wide eyes. Fear crossed each of their faces briefly as even Luna prayed she would think of something else.

Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged doubtful looks, each of them looked doubtful in a different way. Ron's blue eyes burned as red as his hair with a scornful look that seered Hermione's soft flesh. Harry couldn't seem to decide if the idea angered him or if it disappointed him, Ginny just looked at her with disappointment in her eyes.

"I'm doing it with or without your approval," Hermione spat as she turned to walk away from them.

Hermione sat alone in an all too familiar courtyard, under the oak cross-legged as she read through her abused copy of _Advanced Charms and Theory of Enchantment_, her journal open on a half blank page in front of her. She didn't know how to handle everything that came crashing down on her today. Everybody knew, the secret she had kept so well had come crumbling down because of one stupid decision. She had decided to warn him and spare him the emotional pain of being so involved with someone like her. Next time she would just let him suffer.

All she had to do was focus on her school work. The reading was complex enough, despite the fact she was re-reading it, that it took all her focus. Getting it down to the point of dissecting each individual principle and element in Morgaine's Third Law for her essay meant she didn't need to think about what happened. She could shut herself away for a while and be in her own world without interruptions and she would be fine.

"Hermione?" said a tiny voice.

Hermione turned to see a small blond girl with grey eyes staring at her expectantly. Luna Lovegood had followed her all the way from the third floor to this small, out of the way courtyard.

Hermione shut her journal and looked up from her clumsy strumming. "Is..is there something wrong?"

Luna sat down beside Hermione, looking at her without contempt or pity, but a spark of something very comforting. "It isn't fair, is it?"

"What isn't?" Hermione asked taken aback.

"That you're sick and absolutely no one can relate." Luna said simply.

Hermione's mind burned with shame when she couldn't deny it was true. Hermione hated to be so self-absorbed to think her friends didn't have their own problems. They had more severe problems than she did, but they still could never understand. "Luna, I—"

"Harry, Ron and Ginny don't leave easy lives at all," Luna spoke as though she were Hermione's own thoughts. "You know this. You appreciate it, but someone who is healthy doesn't understand it all. It's not fair that you're sick, it's not fair that despite all they've been through they can't relate. It's also not fair that after years of hiding it so well everybody knows."

Hermione looked at Luna seriously, her silver-blue eyes so full of understanding. Hermione never thought of Luna as a close friend, in fact, Luna was the only one she fought with more than Ron. But Luna saw something in Hermione nobody else did. A new appreciation for Luna found its way to Hermione.

"How do you understand me so well when I tell you so little?" Hermione asked.

The strange girl smiled as her clear eyes locked with her. She seemed so serene and wise Hermione awaited with a great eagerness the words that would flow from Luna's mouth. Anticipating it might be the flow of the ancient river giving her life.

"When I was nine and my Mum died trying to invent that spell, I was a tad more down-trodden than I am now. I felt very guilty about everything. I remember her so well. She wasn't very tall, maybe around your height, with long silvery hair and deep brown eyes with a smile that never seemed to leave her face." Luna smiled as her eyes twinkled with the memory. "She smelt like buttercups. Dad says that other than his eye colour, I look just like her. Mum was such a beautiful and strong woman. She wasn't trying to invent that spell because she was curious—though she has done that once or twice—but she never had me with her, too dangerous for her "little moon goddess"." Luna giggled happily at her old nickname. She continued her story looking at the sky. "I was with her because the spell she was trying to make was supposed to make me healthy."

Hermione stared at Luna with a profoundly new perspective. She was sick too. And she watched her mother die because of it. Hermione's chest pounded and her vitality drained as she thought of her own feelings of guilt. Poor Luna had been carrying this burden for seven years. A familiar maternal urge came upon Hermione to wrap her arms around her, but she restrained herself, knowing how bloody awful finding yourself in someone's arms unexpectedly could be.

"I had congenital heart disease, Hermione," Luna confided, looking now directly in her eyes with all the understanding in the world. "Mum was trying to fix that."

Luna must have been a telepath, as she wrapped her arms around Hermione. "I'm so sorry, Luna"

"It's not your fault," Luna smiled lightly as ever. "Even now, I'm still very close to my Mum."

"Spiritually?"

"Yes," Luna agreed. "But that's not what I was getting at."

Hermione shot Luna a quizzical look.

"Her heart beats in my chest."

Hermione saw Luna like she had met her for the first time. The tiny blond who wore a necklace of bottle caps and her wand behind her ear that was brilliantly mad, but a sincere, wise girl with insight getter than that even of Dumbledore's. She had seen more suffering, more guilt and more forgiveness than anyone she had known. Luna's story was tragic, but she still met each day with a smiling magic.

"_Advanced Charms and Theory of Enchantment_?" Luna broke the silence by noting the open book a top a pile Hermione brought to the courtyard. "I always found charms fascinating. Is Enchantment Theory hard to wrap your head around?"

Hermione felt like she was back in her element as she sat up straight and opened the book to a marked page that was more yellow and purple from colour coated highlighting from hours of studying over the summer when she was alone in the hospital gardens. "Tell Ron and Harry and I'll shoot you," she smirked shoving Luna to the grassy ground then laying down beside her with pointing at the words and hand-drawn sloppy diagrams. "But it takes weeks to get it all straight because it's all like a complex web, each law and principle connecting to eachother without being linear."

Severus knew he had to apologize. It wasn't his place to tell, even if he was looking out for her. Needless to say, he was confused. He hadn't needed to handle someone like Hermione since his mother, and god knew Eileen hadn't half the independent streak Hermione had. All Hermione wanted to do was ignore it, and was convinced anyone wanting to help her only saw her for her illness.

Questioning why he had to ever fall in love with someone like her, he turned a corner to the courtyard Hermione always seemed to be in. He knew why. Before Umbridge's reign over her Hogwarts a willow was standing by the door so that and it's vines draped over the archway, hiding the courtyard from passerbys. He often went there to be alone in his own youth.

To his surprise, Hermione wasn't alone. She and a tiny blond girl laid sprawled on their stomachs as they chatted over an open book, occaisionally pointing down at the pages. He recognized the tiny blond very quickly as Luna Lovegood. The girls were very much absorbed in their work, he noted as he saw very involved notes on both of their halves.

"So, naturally that leads into Allanon's expansion of Morgaine's Big Five," Hermione explained pointing to a very messy and labeled web in a note book.

"Which stemmed from Merlin's Theory?" Luna asked just as excited as Hermione. "Which of course we all know was actually Nymwe's idea. Fae naturally have a much better understanding of this sort of thing."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes before looking down at the book once more seeming not to care enough that there was no historical evidence the Lady of the Lake ever actually existed.

"Only conspiracy theorist still believe she existed, Miss Lovegood." He said standing before them with his arms folded across his chest. "Looking to snag Professor Flitwick's job, Granger?"

Hermione and Luna both scrambeled to stand up, Luna helping Hermione by holding the crook of her arm till her feet found the ground safely and Hermione turned back to brush grass shavings off Luna's face before tending to her own.

"Because if you do, there are quite a few things you need to clear up," he continued. "You're missing an entire vein that modern enchantment theory hangs on as support."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Dresden's Hierarchy of Emotion comes much later. I know you like to assume you're just sooo much smarter than the rest of the world, but believe it or not, some of us are actually capable of breathing in and out without being told how."

Severus looked down at the small, infuriated girl before him, her large brown eyes leaping with fire. Clearly, she was still angry, and he had come to the conclusion he came around to apologize too soon. "A little defensive aren't we?"

"Actually," Lovegood piped. "I think she was just defending herself. By the look on her face it seemed like she expected more of an attack than an interest."

"Thank you, Luna," Hermione rolled her eyes and spoke with sarcasm. "Oh, I had not known more woes in this world than that given to me by a silly little girl."

"Sounds like a tune I've been singing the past year," he smirked.

Luna Lovegood rewarded him with an appreciative laugh where Hermione blinked at him blankly. She tried to decide how to re-act, but she could seem to choose between sympathy and anger. He decided to speak before she would decide.

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Because you didn't have enough to say to me before?" she snapped.

He searched the castle over and asked her insufferable friends so he could apologize, but her arrogance made it hard. He looked at the defiant girl cynically. Someone so hyper sensitive could never love him. If she ever did it would upset her too much.

Which angered her more, her hostility or his realization, he didn't know, but she would pay for the misery she'd caused him either way. "No, you left so abruptly we never got to finish our little conversation."

"Oh," her eyes widened dramatically with false surprise. "I'm sorry, Professor. It sounded finished to me."

He opened his mouth to yell at the girl but was cut off by the witness he'd forgotten.

"Isn't she cute when she's angry?"

Severus acknowledged her and held Hermione's face by the chin forcing eye contact. "Adorable."

"Thanks, Luna," she said sarcastically oncemore.

"Not a problem, Hermione," she smiled. "Do you want me to leave you two, Professor?"

"No, Miss Lovegood," he sighed, the relief in Hermione's face was palpable. "I'm just reminding her to meet me after supper tomorrow. I figure that'll be a good time to start her detentions." He placed his face mere inches from hers. "Do I need to repeat any of that, sweetheart?"

"I've got it."

"That's my good girl," he said merrily patting her head as though she were a small child.

With this he left impressed with his ability to ignore the urge to look back. He knew how she'd react to this anyway. An audible sigh escaped her (alas he was right!) and he imagined she rolled her eyes as she sat back down. When they thought he was out of earshot he heard them speak.

"Remember back when I could wear a neon sign and he could still ignore me?" Hermione asked.

Lovegood giggled at this. "You won;t get those back, _sweetheart_,"

"Luna!" she gasped and then sounded dejected. "Perhaps I could be more of an insufferable know-it-all. Nobody likes that."

"You could emphasize all of your flaws, be as crude as possible with him and go days without bathing," Lovegood sighed. "He will still come for you."

" I don't understand it at all!" Hermione cried. "Why is my health his buissness?"

"You know he wouldn't bother if he didn't care about you."

"I know..." she admitted. "He's just so unpredictable, his mood ever changing like the seasons, I have a hard time keeping up."

Lovegood laughed at this. "I guarantee you he's struggling with the same problem. You dance around your feelings for him, you want to help him any fool can see that. But you're also so ashamed of your condition you avoid the one person who can figure it out. You give him just as much trouble as he gives you."

_Please listen to her!_ His mind screamed as he decided to quit eaves dropping on the girls. He would talk to her, calmly, during her detention. They had to sort things out, he decided. Perhaps then she would stop appearing in his dreams.

"He loves you." Luna said casually.

Hermione stopped her playing and stared at her friend sadly. She often wondered if he did, but always decided against thinking about it too much. The night after the bar confused her deeply. Him pleading to her to let him take care of her had confused her even more than their little snogging session. _Don't think about it, Hermione._

"He begged me to let him take care of me, Luna." Hermione sighed. "Sometimes I think I just want to let him shelter me like a tarp over a flower bed. I know it's not fair to him, or you guys. You don't deserve to deal my illness. You have more important things to worry about."

"Not to mention the fact your ashamed of your condition."

"That too," Hermione sighed admiring Luna more as she began to feel shame from the shame.

Another silence passed between the girls underneath the turquoise crisp sky. Sunlight danced along the oak leaves and highlighted the lush green grass they sat on. The only movement were the leaves and clouds in the sky. Hermione and Luna stared at the feathered canyons in the sky drifting by wondering if they were drifting anyway important, or if anything could be found in their depths.

"Harry, Ron and Ginny are right, Hermione," Luna broke the silence boring her grey eyes into hers.

"Luna!" Hermione was taken aback. "How can you say that when you were sick once?"

"They're wrong to say you can't do anything when you're sick," she clarified. "But even _I_ think that inducing an attack is crazy."

"Then what should I do?"

Luna smiled as she placed a dandelion behind her ear. "Snape loves you, Hermione. Play on that instead of your illness."

Hermione carried Mr. Snickerdoodle in one arm and slung a bag over her shoulder which held the Marauders' Map and a potion to speed her heartrate just in case. She took one last look in the mirror, her hair was visibly mussed, she stood barefoot in flannel pyjamas with a stuffed dog in her arms. What person in their right mind would wander the corridors like that? If they were caught, he'd have to believe she was sleepwalking.

"You're bringing your stuffed dog?" Harry asked as they met in the common room.

"Props enhance a performance, Harry," she said smugly.

Ron groaned and gestured to her. "I think the happy bunny pj's and the fact you managed to mess up your hair even more sells it, Hermione. You look like hell."

"Thank you," she giggled.

"Are we ready for this?" Harry asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she handed him the map. "Let's hope our feet aren't caught this time."

The three set out to find a private conversation they hoped the two would make public. Sure enough McGonagal and Snape were cleary marked on the map in an easily accessible point of the castle. Hermione secretly thanked the gods of plot holes while they made their way down to them.

Once along the trek Mrs. Norris had caught them and began yowling, signalling for her owner. Hermione distracted her cleverly with a ball of yarn in her bag, rolling it out from under the cloak to the far end of the hall. They passed her contented and purring tangled in fuzzy pink yarn.

Finally, they made it to them in an empty corridor, close enough to a corner that the three could listen to them from the safety of behind a wall where a corner rounded.

"For the last time, Minevra," Snape began in a hushed tone. "I'm one-hundredpercent sure."

McGonagal nodded. "Do you realize what this means, Sevrus?"

His voice sounded cool, but Hermione picked up on a hint of excitement not even his coworker picked up on. "It means our chances of winning this war have gotten much better."

"It's truly a relief."

"Is it?" the hint of hopefulness was erased from his voice. "We're not assured of anything. All we know now is that we're not just holding our own anymore."

"How many more horcrux's do you think there are, Severus?"

"What the hell's a horcrux?" Ron whispered to Hermione, who elbowed him to shut him up.

"I don't know," Snape answered McGonagal. "But we best keep our eyes open for more."

"Do you have any idea—"

"Where he'd hide more?" Snape finished. "The Dark Lord hasn't trusted that knowledge to anyway. If we want to find them, we need to look."

"This is true." McGonagal sighed. "I just wish I knew where to start."

"Albus and I have spent years looking, and we've managed to track one. And I still haven't a clue how to destroy it. The one that is destroyed we don't know how it happened."

"The one that P—"

This is when Ron ^conveniently^ sneezed. Hermione could have throttled him! Honestly, he couldn;t have at least waited for McGonagal to finish her sentence, let alone for them to leave.

Hermione felt the great thumping in her chest when she heard Snape tell McGonagal to stay where she was. She panicked inwardly as she heard the footsteps approach them. Mind mounted in panic as she reviewed her act plan, a voice from earlier came to mind.

_Snape loves you, play on that._

She did. Ditching her original plan, she quickly stripped back facing the boys and shoved her pj's in her bag along with her wand, she passed the bag to Harry, before either boy could speak, Hermione left from beneath the cloak and pressed Mr. Snickerdoodle against her scar making it seem as if she was just clinging it to her.

She felt small in the cold empty hallway. She took in a deep breath and began walking forward trying to look as lost as possible. It was easy when she felt so vulnerable. She was beginning to regret her decision the moment she made it, but it was a good distraction.

"Oh, my God!" Snape gasped at the sight and sheathed his wand.

Hermione fumbled for an appropriate reaction. She merely looked him in the eye as normally as possible. "What happens to us when we get sick and in the way?"

Severus stared at the naked girl before him. She held her stuffed dog to her chest and stood trembling looking at him expectantly._How out of it is she?_

"Hermione," he sighed walking up to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "You need to wake up."

"Professor?" she asked with hesitation.

"What's going on here?" McGonagal asked tone softener as she saw Hermione staring around wide-eyed and confused.

Another gasp came from the other end of the hall. Filch entered the corridor holding a ball of yarn with an expectant cat on his heels. He approached the group, silent for once as he stared at Hermione with the same gawking expression McGonagal wore.

Hermione looked down after seeing their expressions and took a large step back as she cried "Oh, God!"

Filch and McGonnagal kept gawking at the girl as she dropped her dog and buried her face in her hands. Severus stood in front of her blocking their view and shouted at his co-workers. "STOP GAWKING AT HER LIKE AN ANIMAL! Isn't she embarrassed enough?"

He summoned a jumper and handed it to the shaking girl. She thanked him and put it on, he was glad it covered enough falling to her mid thighs. She still stared at everybody with wide eyes as she shook. She wasn't just embarrassed. She was humiliated. He considered oblitiating their memories. But decided it would somehow back fire and simply handed the old stuffed animal to Hermione.

Her eyes remained locked on the gawkers in shock until he gently placed his arm on her shoulders. "Ignore them," he told her as he walked her down the corridor. "They're animals."


	18. Severus Snape

"And you're sure she isn't hurt?" Severus demanded refusing to take his eyes off the girl sitting crossed legged in the hospital bed holding her ratty stuffed animal.

_You're in love with a girl who still drags around a stuffed animal! _he scolded himself. _What's worse, I find it endearing!_ He pushed the thoughts aside as he sat down beside her. "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright," she offered a meek smile.

"She's fine," Pomfrey groaned bored of him. "I've said it, she's said it. I imagine the only thing wrong would be her being she a little embarrassed."

"So I can leave?" Hermione perked up happily, not unlike a golden retriever who heard the word 'walk'.

"I don't think—"

"Go ahead, dear," Pomfrey cut him off.

He looked at Hermione who got up carefully still holding the dog close to her. She looked at him gratefully in the eye. "Thank you so much, for everything."

"I'd have been upset if you expected any less from me, Hermione."

He lingered a while after she left.

"If you're here to ask about her condition," Pomfrey started. "I already told you the information has to come from her."

"I know, I just—"

"If you're wondering about that scar, it was given to her by doctors for a very necessary surgery."

"I know."

Pomfrey sighed and looked at him with exasperation. "Then why are you here?"

"Is she dying?"

"After everything he said to you in class you want to apologize?" Ron asked his lips forming a perplexed pink wave. "You're mad!"

Hermione huffed rolling her eyes. "You didn't hear the things he said to me last night, Ron. He was so patient with me—well after drilling me with questions to make sure I was lucid—(What's your middle name? What year is this? How old are you? These simple questions bombarded her after a long silence when he was walking her to the hospital wing.)—but then he after he established I was lucid we just talked about novels and poetry, with countless interjections of 'are you okays'. I can't be mad at him now."

Harry laughed. "I'm sure he'll give you another reason to be angry with him before the end of the day. I almost think you two are looking to maintain your like-hate relationship."

"Harry!"

"He's right," Ron said. "You two are like an old married couple."

Hermione felt rage pump inside her at the accusation. She didn't know why, but she hated that the very idea of them trying to keep a love-hate relationship coming to her friends. Even if there was reason to cement it, she wasn't willingly subjecting herself to his capricious game!

"The things I said to him were totally out of line. Even if he deliberately roused me, I still dug deeper than I needed to. I don't want to..." Hermione nibbled on her finger nails as she pondered her approach. It killed her as she tried to think of his many reactions to her apologizing. Which hurt more, her pictures of him being condescending or her pictures of him being perfectly understanding and forgiving, she didn't know. "It's the last thing I want to do, but I—I have no choice, I have to apologize."

By now Hermione's hair had been twisted tightly about her tiny finger and threaded between her teeth. She chewed as she pondered her attack plan and plotted words like gardens, she imagined a different reaction to her apology every time, making her amend her apology to yet another one he would react differently to. She was about to admit she couldn't mentally plot this out when a hand gently tugged at the lock of hair above where it met her mouth.

"That won't be necessary, sweetheart. You're forgiven for now," a velvety voice spoke gently into her ear. "Now, I believe we've discussed the hair chewing?"

Hermione turned unsurprised by the voice's owner. The "sweetheart" alone had given it away, the timbre and suave coolness used to be the main indicators. She wondered if he remembered her name sometimes. He knew and used all three at his desire, but when he felt particularly condescending or affectionate she found he would call her that. Recently he was always one or the other. Hermione still longed for his indifference. If it wasn't for his meddling her crush would fade away and she would be able to relax. Hiding anything from the likes of Severus Snape was exhausting.

"Sorry," she replied removing the strand from her mouth.

Snape brushed her hair behind her ear. "Perhaps it would be less tempting to chew if you didn't have it dangling at the corners of your mouth all day."

"Is there something you want, sir?" Hermione asked breaking the silence before Ron or Harry would.

"Other than eaves dropping on us?" Harry added with contempt.

"Watch your mouth, Potter," he growled as he placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I'm not here for you, but that can easily change." Snape eyed the boys briefly. "I came here looking for Miss Granger and happened to over hear her plight. I'd say it's for the better as it probably saved the two of us a very awkward moment."

"Why were you looking for me?" she asked.

"I'm beginning to think throwing you in detention for the duration of the term was a tad extreme for what you've done." Snape then lifted her face by placing his fingers under her chin. "Though I do have a proposal for you?"

"Which would be...?" she asked blinking blankly in confusion.

"You still insulted me and acted up in class. I don't believe you should be let off the hook entirely." He smirked as a playful flame flickered in his black eyes. "The proposal is this: I want you to teach my Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff first year class for this week coming up. If you're right about my methods being wrong and I see improvement among the students you'll have saved yourself from detention for the rest of the term. But if I see no improvement whatsoever, or, worse, performance drops, you will keep the original punishment I gave you."

A bet. Hermione was just given the terms of a bet from a teacher. She was not a gambling woman, but she had indulged in the habit enough to be comfortable here. She was sure she was right, between the classes she taught at the community centre and the help she did with all the students in Gryffindor tower she had enough experience to know it. An admittedly malicious smile found her lips when she imagined Snape's face when she won the bet. She stuck her arm out with more enthusiasm than she had when raising her hand in class her fist year. "You're on!"

"Hermione!" Harry chastised.

"It's too late, Potter. She already accepted the challenge." He shook Hermione's hand firmly. "It'll be a pleasure working with you, Hermione."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> The song Hermione sang to Violet a few chapters back is "Violet Eyes" by Jewel. Despite the fact this is Fanfic, I should still give credit where it's due. All Characters but Joshua, Violet and Hermione's family are JK Rowling's.

Also, I'm considering changing the title-ideas?

Please comment, I'm finding your reviews very motivating!


	19. Lessons

"_You know you love her, Sev,"_

_Severus sighs as he looks at his best friend. "Lily, I—"_

"_have been in love with a dead woman far too long," Lily smiles as her green eyes sparkle with sympathy. She lightly touches his cheek. "It's time you moved on. She can make you happy."_

_He stares at the woman he had loved all his life with his love still choking him, forming a lump in his throat. He could never move on, those green eyes would haunt him forever, he knows he'd always love her. But he did love Hermione greatly as well._

_She was so much like Lily and yet so different. They were both very intelligent, sympathetic, caring and gave love freely to who would take it. Hermione was much more guarded than Lily ever was, but at the same time, Lily was healthy and had nothing to hide from her best friend, whereas Hermione was much more like him. She would keep building walls until she felt they were impenetrable. Thinking of how she refused to make herself vulnerable he pulls the girl sleeping in his lap closer to him._

"_Severus," Lily gets up. "You two need each other."_

"_I know," Hermione opens her eyes but doesn't move away from Severus. She looks at the beautiful, kind woman standing before her in a white robe. Her best friend's mother had spoken to her more than once, she wonders why she hadn't noticed that it had been Lily speaking to her in her dreams. "I'll try to help him."_

"_And to let him help you?" Lily speaks to the girl maternally._

"_I think I will," she says turning to face Severus, brown eyes sparkling with love as he places a hand over his heart._

"_That would imply you'd have to let me see behind those walls you've spent years constructing," he whispers tenderly. _

"_I think I will," she places a tender kiss on his lips. He can feel the soft, sweet touch conveying a deeper love than he thought anyone could feel for him. "I think I might let go. Let myself fall."_

"_So long as I can catch you," he kisses her forehead and rests a hand on her cheek._

"_Always," Hermione speaks contently._

_Lily turns back and smiled at the two contently. "Joshua is happy for you, Hermione, don't you worry about him." She turns her gaze to Severus._

"_I miss you, Lily."_

"_It's alright, Severus," Lily places her hand over her heart. "Afterall, the girl has my heart."_

Severus opened his eyes to see it was all a dream. He should have known. Lily had been dead for fifteen years , and she wouldn't come back merely to have a conversation with them. The solace of Lily thinking Hermione should be with him felt so real, he couldn't bare it. He would love her for all his life, he would love both of them till he died.

He felt a single tear fall down his cheek as he thought about his love. Which one, he didn't know. Lily's acceptance followed by Hermione's kiss provided him with a happiness he hadn't felt for years. It wasn't fair for his dreams to play with his emotions that way.

It seemed everytime he slept, dreams of Hermione would ensue. Typically they were simply speaking in the courtyard, but every now and then he dreamt of making love to her, those dreams were too vivid and happy for him to bear waking up. Others with her were too horrifying, the one where she was waiting for the sky to fall being as horrifying as the dream where he had raped her.

He wanted to blame Hermione for her appearances in his dreams. He did for a while, but deep down, he always knew it was his fascination with her, and she had no say in that. If anything she was trying to break him from it. Her attempts would go nowhere, facing him with the decision to ignore it or embrace it and try to take care of her. He often wanted to do the first but he wasn't as strong as he had been with Lily. He couldn't bare seeing or thinking of Hermione with someone else, nor could he walk away from her as he had done with Lily all those years before.

Perhaps he couldn't let her go because he saw her as a second chance at love. He couldn't bear to let it slip through his hands again. But that wasn't fair to the girl when she didn't want anything to do with him. Maybe in the week she spent working under him they would learn how to get along and be amicable towards each other. Hermione had no clue she was his closest friend, and he would be more than happy to settle for being that for her.

He walked into the courtyard that had become a regular haunt of his and wished he'd been surprise by the presence of Hermione. Wished he hadn't come for the soul purpose of seeing her.

Hermione was kneeling infront of a lilac bush in a far corner of the court yard singing in a foreign language under her breath as she fiddled with the brambles. Thank god it wasn't a rose bush. As Severus approached he noticed she was untangling a thriving ivy that had clung to the wall from the bushes branches.

"What are you doing, girl?"he asked kneeling beside her.

"Ivy's tangled among the lilac's brambles," she huffed looking up at him. "It'll take over the world if it gets the chance."

"I see," he said noting a border of daisies around the length of the wall that weren't there before.

That's when he noticed that it was a garden along the wall. Two lilacs older than he was managed to thrive on either corner of the far wall and rose bushes dotted the edge of the wall the ivy so quickly took over. Crocus, daffodils, tulips and other flowers were beginning to bud in the rich soil in no particular sections."I thought someone else was tending to this. The lay-out is almost the same as when I was young."

Hermione turned back to him left the ivy alone a moment. "When I first started coming here it was all on the verge of dying." She then returned to the untangling. "I didn't change anything, saved a few of the seeds with a few spells I read and revived the ill bushes. After that, it took care of itself."

"I little too well, I'd say." He said pointing at the ivy. "What made you tend to it?"

Hermione then reached for a budding daffodil and stroked it with distant eyes. "It was dying. All of it looked like everyone had just given up on it. I thought, maybe if I could save it, it would—"

Severus knew where she was going with that and cringed at the thought. The girl turned to scenery that—

"Nobody gives a damn if it all is lost or if it thrives. I had to try or pull it all up and pretend it was never there." She sighed and pulled up a brown, shrivelled flower from the garden. "I have no clue how that budded in the first place that early..."

In Hermione's hand sat a shrivelled dead lily. She stared at it a while then threw it to the ground. She craned her neck over for other flowers that would have never made it through Scottish Marches.

Severus sighed and clasped Hermione's shoulder reassuringly. "The most resilient of plants will thrive on the smallest chance. Even if the odds aren't great. Some will burst through concrete if the ground beneath is still decent." He picked up the dead lily gingerly. "All it needs is one small thing to cling on."

"And some," she said finally looking him in the eye. He didn't like how cold and hopeless they seemed as they stared into his. "Are better of beneath the soil until the frost and concrete's gone," she sighed. "I've always been jealous of their ability to go about unnoticed."

"I'll remember that next time I see your hand raised in class."

"Of course you will, sir," she shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked in a cool voice, but the girl did manage to raise an eyebrow.

Her smile faded and she looked at him, her eyes now hollow when mere seconds before they shone like the stars that lingered with the coming dawn. "You seem to remember every word I say these days."

"You act as if you wouldn't mind being so easily forgotten?"

She looked up with him with a palpable sorrow on her face. "I might even want it."

Leaving him gaping like an idiot, she walked out of the courtyard. She walked through the arched doorway and left his field of vision. It was as if his object permanence had vanished as easily as the girl did. She was minutes at most away from him, but it felt like she was already eons away, or as if she were just gone.

The weight of her last five words made his stomach churn. Severus felt like he was chasing a ghost or a shadow. No, he was chasing the shadow of a ghost with the naive hope of catching her, but she vanished as soon as he was close enough to touch her, slipping through his fingers. Hermione Granger was fading away in front of everybody's eyes; how could nobody notice?

"Honestly, Miss Granger, I don't know where you get these absurd ideas!" Snape sighed as he looked at her clumsy notes. There was a strange quality to his voice now when he mocked her, and Hermione was trying to deny that he'd been staring at her all evening.

There was a carefulness to his actions, each foot step he made around her seemed deliberate, so much that she could see the eggshells he walked upon. Every time he perceived a crack from these imaginary shells beneath his lightly moving feet she could see him wince. Why was he treading so lightly with her?

_It's because I'm sick. It's always been because I'm sick and it always will be. _Hermione thought bitterly. _I'm the girl with heart cancer, even when in remission._

"They'll absorb it better this way," Hermione responded trying to ignore the situation. "And if not, you get to win a bet."

"Sure they will, sweetheart," his words were chosen correctly, but it lacked its usual sarcasm. His words were flatter than the piece of paper they meticulously studied.

An awkward moment of silence passed. Hermione felt Snape's eyes on her the entire time. She thought she might be reduced to ashes if his intense gaze continued any longer, like an ant under too close examination.

"Perhaps you should sit down," Severus suggested when Hermione began shifting her weight from foot to foot. She took the suggestion without a word as she brought a chocolate tendril to her ashen lips. He wondered what she'd look like with pink lips and rosy cheeks for a moment before remembering that she did once. It was hard enough to believe this ghost of a girl once at least looked healthy.

Another wave of guilt came over him. He silently chastised himself for fantasizing about someone so fragile.

"I worry about you sometimes, Hermione," he gingerly set a hand on her shoulder, but quickly retracted.

"I'm not sick!" she cried with the impeccable speed she always seemed to speak with when on the defensive

"Yes you are," he wasn't sure if he was telling himself or her. "But I was talking about throwing you to those wolves you call children."

"You seriously under estimate me," Hermione said taking to her feet and placing her delicate hands on her hips. "I'm much better at crowd control than you'd think."

"You stand tall at five-three and need to be drunk when presented in front of a crowd. These children are going to eat you alive." Severus then thought about what he was throwing her into. Could she handle it? Would the stress of teaching and her school work in anyway affect her condition? He certainly saw how quickly his mother's condition progressed when thrust into stressful situations...but her condition was degenerative and the outcome was often the same, only the time line changed. Hermione's condition was entirely different. Or at least he imagined it was. He wished she would grow up and tell him.

"The minute your condition rears its head," he began toying with a lock of her hair. "I'm calling it off."

Hermione moved looked up at the man in front of her. He wouldn't be letting her forget anytime soon. Every time she looked at this poor well-meaning man, the bitter taste that the word "relapse" left in her mouth would sure enough appear. Severus Snape frightened her more than anyone else on the planet , all because he reminded of who she was, and he had no idea.

"I can handle it," she probed his eyes to look for doubt, she found it along with a concern that crippled her with guilt. "You wouldn't have suggested it if you knew I couldn't do it. I know there's no way in hell you'll trust me, but I'm not asking you to trust me."

"I trust you with my very life, Hermione," he said gently stroking his knuckles against her cheek. "I just don't trust you with yours."

_With his life!_ Her mind screamed._ Please be lying! Please! Please!_ Who was this man standing infront of her? It certainly wasn't the infamous Severus Snape who had been so widely known for his cold and callous demeanour. The man before her was not the guarded, icy professor she had come to know, but instead, he was an open, soft and tender man who bore his bleeding heart on his sleeve.

Hermione blinked blankly at his words and felt a familiar burning in her chest. How could she just stare at him? He was clearly waiting for a response, but she couldn't muster one. A lump formed in her throat and the pink fleshy muscle in her chest betrayed her once more as it began to beat in her throat. Her lungs now burned as her eyes scanned her now blurred surroundings. _Not now, dammit! God, please, let me make it out of this room and out of his sight. Let me be alone when it happens!_

"If you want," he said stiffly as he lowered her into the chair. "We can start count tomorrow."

Bewildered babes. That was the impression Hermione got when the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws filed into their usual seats and saw a sixth year student standing before them at the front of the room with their text book clasped to her chest. She had planned on letting them chatter a bit before diving into the lesson, but Snape had other plans.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why you have a fellow student standing up here with me," he walked behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "This is Miss Granger, and she will be teaching your class for the next week."

Happy conversation was reignited and Hermione could feel the excitement humming from them. She had to remember they were excited about Snape not teaching, not about her teaching. But they would like her enough, she hoped.

"Before you begin rejoicing, it should be known that I will be closely examining this class. And before any of you come up with any brilliant practical jokes, I will still be handing out punishment as I see fit. You are to treat young Miss Granger with the same respect you are _expected _to treat me with."

Severus then walked over to a forgotten desk in the back of the room beside two girls who scooted away from him. He opened a hard cover note book and poised his quill before eyeing her. "The floor is yours, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor," she nodded and then addressed the children. "Okay, first off, it's Hermione. And I will be referring to you guys by first name as well, if you're comfortable with it. Secondly, I don't deserve to be treated with any more respect than you treat eachother with. I am your equal—" Hermione's stomach lurched as she saw Snape slap his forehead. "We're all equals."

The students gave her what looked like their undivided attention. The first day with a new teacher, Hermione noticed, they always do this, to get a feel of the teacher and what they could get away with. She was, nonetheless, glad they were giving her a chance to make an impression. She intended to take advantage of this.

"I was in your shoes not too long ago," she began. "I was working my ass off and in the mean time trying to adjust to a completely new world which involved—and I imagine it'll be the same for some people in the room—completely changing my conception of reality, trying to write enough letters to satisfy your demanding relatives—" she cupped her mouth with the back of her hand and spoke in a stage whisper—"I wrote my sister several times daily!"

The class took to her joke, laughing appreciatively, Severus waited for Hermione to take control of her crowd. When she didn't he was about to shut them up himself when they silenced on their own accord, allowing Hermione to continue.

"I suppose the point is, I haven't forgotten how hard it is to be you guys." Hermione now looked serious, but still held her audience as well as she did the one at the bar. "It is hard, and I appreciate that. You're not just stepping stones to me. I'm not looking to have you guys do well so I can get extra-credit, or as a way to get a position teaching and I'm definitely not looking for a promotion. I want you to do well for you. "

Severus bit down a laugh knowing she was there to weasel her way out of detention.

"Well.." Hermione laughed awkwardly. "I'm also a junkie of sorts," she confided. "I'm addicted to being helping people. So it could just be a morality complex, but I do honestly want to help you. Which bring me to another reason; I want to show that this—" she gestured to herself "—is what you become when become addicted to being right—" she now pointed at the group before her. "For the love of all that is sacred, don't do it!"

Laughter rang from most the students once more.

"Anyway," she continued. "If you pay attention, get help when you need it—I'm all for group work, by the way (Severus scrawled down her fatal flaw)—you will do fine. A metaphor for being angry is seeing red... Everyone together, what's seeing red?"

The group all answered 'seeing red' awkwardly. This went on with a few more obvious questions they would all be guaranteed to know just by virtue of speaking English. She then moved to something on topic. "The hex to hold a person still and have them not be aware is _petrificus totalus_...So, who can tell me what the spell to hold a person still and have them not be aware?"

"Petrificus totalis," they answered unanimously.

"See, it's as simple as that if you pay attention and have a memory span of two seconds," she laughed. "So, it won't be that easy with everything, but that's why I'm here. I want to help you guys. And if you can't ask me, ask your friends."

She lectured from the book for a while and the students all looked positively bored. She was interrupted by a young boy with sandy hair and eyes he was doomed to never grow into.

"Hermione?" he said as he raised his hand.

"Yes," she replied blinking her eyes in a way that told Severus what was happening.

"Isn't that they spell to disarm someone, not the one to knock someone back?" he asked opening the book to a particular page. He pointed as Hermione leaned over to look at the book. "It says here that _expellearmus _is the spell for disarming an opponent without causing bodily harm to him. Hence the name meaning expelling of arms."

"So, it does," she nodded and moved as if she was about to stalk off. "What's your name?"

"Zachariah Galfdanson, Miss—er—Hermione."

"Well, Zachariah," she spoke with a false sterness he was amazed the student bought. "Slam the book shut."

He obeyed and a mischievous smile came across both their lips simultaneously as Hermione said, "Isn't that satisfying?"

_Great, she's teaching my students tobecome pretentious know-it-alls,_ Severus groaned internally.

Hermione had the students move desks and arrange themselves in a circle around the room, with charter and questions asked to eachother they complied. They stood in the circle with their eyes on Hermione as she set the book at her feet and looked around at the students. "We'll be going around in a circle starting with Zachariah here. Everybody say your first name and one thing about yourself."

The students all complied rather enthusiastically, even the shier members of the class managed to mumble something about themselves. It eventually got to Hermione and what she said was with an excitement he once thought she only had when answering questions. "I'm going to Canada next week for my sister Phoebe's wedding!"

_Canada?_ He'd mention it when they were alone. Or maybe he wouldn't. After all, she didn't need to be interrogated about her family life and the time away from her might relieve him of his temporary insanity. At the very least she would stop appearing in his dreams.

After that she had the students had went around the circle and let off steam about something that was on their mind that they felt comfortable telling. A few students selected to pass, and he wasn't in the least bit surprised by who passed. He felt vaguely reassured him in his understanding of his students.

Hermione then split the class into four groups and made a point of mixing houses. She gave each group a letter describing a scenario they were to play infront of the class. They made it like a game of sherades, the group portraying the spell they were assigned were given points based on how well they portrayed them, and a point was awarded to the first group to accurately guess the spell won. (Hermione made a point of telling them the only thing she could really give the winners anything more than bragging rights, but he knew that these eleven-year-olds would play her game all the same.)

The rest of the week was much like this. Hermione made a point of it, despite his complaints, and he had several. In the end he could never put his foot down, no matter how much the little girl irritated him with her in-class antics. He was amused by how differently she conducted the class than he had expected. He expected her to deliver lectures directly from the book, quoting it over and over as a student or two slept. But she repeated used games.

One thing he did approved of was that on her second day of teaching, she did assert herself as an authority—sort of. Tuesday the students got the message to be on-guard when after "complaining circle" (her words not his, and only after catching herself from calling it 'the bitching circle', which of course led to a long lecture about how carefully she had to watch herself and how that was the last thing he had expected from her) she threw a stuffed dog at a boy who had not been paying attention. He caught it with wide eyes staring at his student teacher in surprise.

"You wouldn't be able to tell me what the spell I'd use if I wanted to make my opponent sleep? Would you, Danny?"

"Slumber?" he asked unsure throwing the dog out to her.

"You're really close..." she hesitated.

"But it's not even a spell!" cried a Ravenclaw girl

"Alice, please," Hermione tried to reason with her. "I don't want people to be afraid of giving the wrong answer, or asking stupid questions." She addressed the entire group. "If you don't know something, chances are, at least three other people in the class don't either. As humans, we typically benefit from being wrong, because that's often how one learns the right answer. You guys, don't be afraid of being wrong or asking stupid questions here. Be afraid of being wrong on the test."

"Which, for those of you who are curious," Severus interjected looking indifferently at his 'notes' (which in all honestly were drabble and scribbles). "I am still writing it."

Groans and grumbles emerged from all the students and Hermione quickly tried to bring back the crowd. "Maybe we should look at the books for a while." She opened her copy to a particular page. "Now, Danny said the spell was 'Slumber', which honestly was quite close. You'll find what it actually is in the third paragraph on page 350."

They all opened their books.

"Can you read it, Linnie?"

"_Slumbia_." The tiny girl answered.

"That is close to slumber, isn't it, Alice?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at the indignant girl.

And from then on, the stuffed dog became a regular feature. "Because Mr. Snickerdoodle didn't feel guilty after randomly choosing students to answer questions," she told them. By Thursday everyone she threw the dog at could answer her questions, perhaps for fear of embarrassment. He had to admit, he was impressed, but he still had to wait for the test.

"Linnie?" Hermione looked at the girl who stood in a daze after the dog had fallen to her feet. "Is she alright, Jonny?"

The boy looked at the girl staring off to space, then back to Hermione. "I tried poking her."

"She's fine," Severus interjected walking up to her. "She goes off into a dream so often, I'm amazed she's passing any of her courses. Miss Terrance!"

She didn't respond. He waved a hand in front of her face, but her hazel eyes didn't show any sign of recognition. She just stood there. Severus didn't know what to do, he had always assumed her glossy-eyed, far-off expression meant she was day-dreaming.

"In a dream?" Hermione quoted with a hiss. "She's done this before and you thought she was _day dreaming!_"

"Miss Granger—"

"_Daydreaming!_" she yelled again.

"You forget yourself, girl," he warned with a growl. "If you're so smart, what the hell do you thinks wrong with her."

"She's having a pettit-mal," she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand. "Don't touch her, it could make the ciezure last longer."

"MacDonald," he turned to the boy beside her. "Get Madam Pomfrey here, rest of you can leave."

After the students left Hermione continued her barrating. "Why did you not know she's epileptic? You know, ciezures can cause brain damage?"

"And how the hell am I supposed to prevent that?" he snapped.

"I don't know," she sighed growing more frustrated. "I still can't believe you thought she was daydreaming. Honestly!"

Severus felt his blood begin to boil and his heart accelerate. Who the hell did this girl think she was? She had no right to be berating him so. Fuming with months of rage and frustration he grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her closer to him and gestured to Linnie Terrance with his free hand. "Listen to me, you foolish little chit! Ihad no way of knowing, because unlike some people, I didn't have the luxury of being in hospitals so often I can recognize an illness with one glance! Do you expect me to see the girl's thoughts?"

"I expect you to recognize a medical problem when you see it," Hermione shouted and tried to take back her arm. Her voice lowered as her eyes burned through him. "Last I checked, you seemed to think you were pretty good at that."

He let go of her at this and choked on his anger. Did she not see what he was trying to do for her? Or did she just not care? Whatever her reason, it was inexcusable. The fact he didn't know the girl's vacant expressions were ceizures was unfortunate, but not his fault. She just wanted to blame someone. She was projecting herself onto that girl, perhaps, and needed it to be his fault.

"Hermione?" a small voice asked. "Professor? Where is everyone?"

"Why the hell—" he began, but Hermione cut him off and threw an arm over her shoulders to lead her to a chair.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm fine," she answered self-consciously.

"How—" Hermione began but was cut off by Pomfrey.

Pomfrey examined the girl and took her up to the hospital wing after ensuring the two of them they would be just fine. After the mediwitch and Linnie Terrance were out of her earshot Hermione hissed once more. "_Daydreaming!_" at him with an eyeroll and left his classroom.


	20. Conversation beneath a tree

Severus left the great hall that night and decided to seek the foolish girl out. Illness or no, even his feelings for her did not excuse her display that afternoon, and she was going to be aware of that before the night ended.

He stumbled across Potter and Weasley dallying in the corridor, it seemed odd their third member was missing. The trio were on the verge of being symbols of the school, and even with Luna Lovegood hovering around them they seemed incomplete without the tiny, bushy girl between them.

"Have you seen Hermione?" Lovegood asked him as she caught him walking toward them.

"I was about to ask the same question." He looked to her two regular companions and turned his attention. "Where's your sister?"

"She's in the common room with working on an essay, why?"

"Curious." He turned and walked away before either of the three responded, but it wasn't long before he heard his footsteps echo. "What do you want, Lovegood?"

"I wouldn't seek her out just yet, Professor." She said.

"Who said I was seeking anyone out?"

"You _just_ said you were about to ask us where she is."

At this, he turned to face her. She always stood as though she were a giant despite her tiny stature, she looked at him with as if she were about to offer some great insight that would save the world. He was irritated by her perceptions and the inability to keep them to herself. But to his dismay, she was often right.

"When I saw her outside the hospital wing after she parted ways with Linnie she had a lot to say about you, and none of it was good."

"It never is," he sighed. "I suppose she was upset about what happened in class?"

"Why are you even asking that?" she laughed, amused.

He gave a lingering sigh as he looked for an answer. He couldn't find one that wasn't pathetic. In truth, he wanted it to be another stupid fight about _her_ welfare and _his _meddling, instead of some little girl's welfare that he had neglected. That she wasn't upset because he had been doing what she had been asking him to do for so long.

"She'll pop up some place when she wants to be found," the strange girl advised. "whether she knows it or not."

"I avoid speaking to Professor Trelawny at all costs because of criptic language, Miss Lovegood," he said as he began to continue the direction he was heading in and prayed she didn't follow. "I suggest you don't if you wish to be heard."

A sigh came from Lovegood that had been much more exadgerrated than required to get her point across. "If you're going to look for her regardless of what I say, keep your ear open for flute music."

He turned on his heel and stared the girl down. "What the hell did I just say?"

A crooked smile played across her impish pale face and a mischievious twinkle sparkled in her eye as she shrugged. "Hermione's mother wanted her to learn just about every instrument on the planet, what do you think I mean?"

He turned away to hide his reddening face and walked quickly away from her. Embarrassment for not getting what she meant or no, she infuriated him to the point he was sure _he_ would have a ceizure.

Severus decided Hermione Granger was painfully predictable when he heard the flute music playing from the courtyard he had always come to look for her. But when he looked through the archway he saw no one playing. The tree stood alone, protecting no one from the setting sun. The shadow stretched across the grass darkening the grass not highlighted by the golden streams of light. The sky was a delicate orange gold that cast the colour on everything light touched. The slow melodic flute playing (for fourth wall breaking purposes...the main Harry Potter theme) from nowhere seemed to be an appropriate background for the setting. It was a beautiful, and all too familiar tune, but he couldn't place it.

It wasn't long before he realized the music had been coming from the tree. Severus approached the tree, seeing no one in its branches he stood there wondering briefly if she had stolen Potter's invisibility cloak. He dismissed the idea as quickly as he formed it and looked to see if she was hiding on the other side of the trunk. "You should know better than to come here to hide from me".

He quickly realized no one was sitting on the other side of the tree. He felt like a fool, but to rub it in when he looked up he saw Hermione laying on a branch eyelevel with him. She had her eyes closed as she played, the sun reflected off her silver flute, refracting at places the leaves left exposed. Hermione herself glowed among the leaves, her brown curls fell onto the branch, melting into it and among the leaves, her pale skin seemed luminous in the lighting, and once again the twilight had allowed him to see the halo he sometimes pictured her with.

"I wasn't aware you were looking for me," she said simply as she stopped her playing. "Is there something you wanted?"

"You shouldn't be in a tree." He gripped the branch near her foot with one hand and his other hand found a safe peice of branch by her arm. "Last I checked you had trouble mustering enough strength to handle a knife. I don't want you attempting to climb trees."

"I am all of six feet high. I highly doubt I'll be so seriously injured in the event I fall it even warrented concern."

Severus was growing more and more frustrated with her. First, she hides a severe illness for years, then she gets mad when somebody found out, then she turns around and is upset when he isn't aware of a medical condition another person is hiding. Not to mention the behaviour she had been displaying as of late, treating him like he was the villain of the piece. And now, she had the audacity to ignore him like this? To make it worse, she had poised her flute and continued her song as if he had never been there.

"If you don't come down from there I'll remove you," he threatened.

She rolled her eyes, slowly sat up and placed her flute in a bag she had hanging on an adjacent branch. "You haven't the leverage, you'll knock yourself over if you tried."

"Hermione, I'm going to count to three and if you haven't got your little arse out of that tree, I'll—"

Hermione let a a snort of a laugh with another eyeroll. "You'll what?"

He didn't answer her with words, but instead he grabbed at her waist and pulled her from the tree. As the she had predicted, her weight so close to his head had sent them both crashing down to the ground, with nothing but the grass to break their fall. Hermione landed on top of Snape, her face inches from his. His black eyes burned with anger and the golden sunlight seemed to add a literal flame in each eye. It wasn't long before that fire was extinguished by a stoic expression that he so often. Rolling her eyes she ignored this, and grinned "I'd hate to say I told you so." And with that she rolled over on to her back giving them a few inches between them.

She had expected him to jerk to his feet and shout down at her about how infuriating she was. Because that was new news. If she angered him so, why did he seek her out? There was always the option for them to stay clear of eachother and pretend the other didn't exist...But staying away from him was harder than she wanted to admit. She longed for her departure to Newfoundland.

A pallid aquiline nose touching hers interrupted her thoughts of Newfoundland and separation from him. Above her was a pair of black eyes gleaming in the golden light staring in to hers, startling her. "You would _love _ to say you told me so."

He stared at her a while longer, his eyes examining her as if looking for something on her person. In her face, she decided as it seemed he went back and forth from her eyes to her lips. He lifted stray tendrils out of her face and ran his fingers through her hair before his hand found its way back to her face to carress her cheek.

"What are you doing?" she asked without a hint of nervousness betrayed.

At this Snape backed off with widened eyes and sat by her side. "You're absolutely covered in leaves."

Hermione sat herself up and brushed any leaves there might be out of her hair. "Now, what was it you were looking to speak with me about?"

"The little incident in class today is not something I will not condole. I know why you reacted the way you did, and I don't care," he cast a look of disapproval at her that made her think more vividly about St. Margaret's Bay. "I've every intention of making sure you understand how dire the consequences are before your departure."

"Before tomorrow evening?" she scoffed.

"Minor detail I'll figure out later. But for now, explain yourself"

"Someone who has complete control over his body could never understand," she sighed sticking out her hand and wiggling her fingers. "It takes no effort for you to do that whenever you please. Once upon a time, I was too weak to do that, and it wasn't that long ago either."

"I'm well aware your condition limits you from time to time, Granger," he groaned. "Playing the sympathy card now will get you nowhere."

Hermione rolled her eyes and very slowly, and with using the tree as support, took to her feet. She was about to tell him the same when she realized he was already on his feet and ready to catch her if she grew faint. She envied him for the simple ability. "People like Linnie are apt to lose that ability at any given time. She'll be going about her day and without a single warning she'll lose everything, control of her body, cpnsciousness and all track of time when consciousness returns. She won't know what she was doing before the seizures and have no clue what had happened around her while she was out. You have no clue what goes through a person's mind when they might lose control of their body at any given time. You had no clue what horrors she was dealing with, and you said to everyone daydreaming. _Daydreaming!_"

"You're right," he said leaning against the sturdy trunk of the tree. "I didn't know what that girl was going through. I didn't know what that girl was going through. Had I known what was happening to her, I wouldn't have accused her of not paying attention. But I didn't know. Because she decided to keep her condition a secret. She has to deal with the complications brought on by her choice to hide her illness. Does that sound at all familiar?"

Hermione sighed as she hit her head against the tree. She slid down the trunk thinking about what she did to Linnie. She outed her as an epileptic, and single handedly tore apart a wall she had for a year been building. It was hard connecting to people and making friends with a condition isolating you, which is what lead to the choice to hide the illness. Hiding was hard,Hermione knew this. It took a great deal of effort and still, there was that constant fear of being found out. What Hermione did to Linnie was no different than what Snape had done to her.

Upon this realization, Hermione hit her face to her knees.

"You can't hide something that severe forever."

Hermione looked up to acknowledge him and was startled to see him kneeling beside her. He continued "It is bound to come up eventually. The longer you hide it, the worse it'll get. An epileptic who tells people about her condition is more likely to ask about what she missed without being accused of being inattentive and someone with a heart condition is more likely to trusted when she says she's getting the attention she needs if she has told someone about her condition."

Hermione swallowed and looked at her teacher with a tired look upon her face. He was right, she knew it. If Linnie had said something about her epilepsy she wouldn't have had the problems she did. But it was still her choice to make, and she probably did understand the implications of keeping it to herself.

"I know—"

"You know nothing. You have no clue what it's like to have to put every last effort to inhale oxygen that burns your lungs, to feel as if you're being stabbed with every movement you make, to battle for every step you take and pray you don't fall down. You don't know what it's like to be in a hospital and wonder what new injury you've acquired from passing out _this_ time, or to stand and become sp dizzy you're overwhelmed. Or what it's like to have to wonder if any excitement, good or bad, will be the end because you're heart just isn't good enough to stand it." Tears now burned in her eyes. "You haven;t the slightest idea."

"You're right," he agreed sitting down with his legs tucked under him, he pulled Hermione closer to him. He set her down so that she was laying down with her head in his lap. He began running his fingers through her hair and said: "so, tell me."


	21. Lingering fears and Possibility

Severus didn't know what to make of the girl's surrendering of information she had guarded so long. She laid there silent with her head his lap for a moment, but once she had opened her mouth, the flow of words seemed to come like a river breaking a dam, it crashed through the barrier with the incredible force of a storm contained and brewing for years, washing over the land it once provided with an unforgiving rage. Tears flowed freely from her closed eyes as she unleashed her torrent, speaking in hushed, breathless tones of a world crashing all around her.

It seemed the last brick of her dam was removed when she opened her eyes and acknowledged _him_ as the one she had told all of these horrors to. It was there, under the tree in the golden sunlight that he was certain Hermione had surrendered herself completely to him, even the dying gold light in her watery eyes seemed to be like the dying embers of a battle fire extinguished, signifying the end of a war.

Hermione was lying there, exhausted from her weeping, she allowed herself to sleep, guardless to him. She had made herself vulnerable to him, without a fight. Sleeping there with her head in his lap, she knew he could do anything to her, and trusted him not to, she knew he could hurt her greatly with what she had shared, and trusted he wouldn't.

"You'll never be alone, darling," he whispered this promise to the sleeping girl.

_Hermione stared up at the man running his fingers through her hair. He looked down at her with absolute patience in his eyes. He accepted her confessions and condemnations without a hint of resistance. He held in his gaze with an over powering sympathy gleaming in his eye. _

_They stared at eachother in silence for a while, both seeing the other for their feelings. It was an instant realization. In the other's eyes gleamed an undying, powerful, passionate and consuming love that would serve as a life line for the other. It was then she knew, he couldn't live without her, and she, despite her short life span, couldn't live without him. She wanted him, and he returned the unreasoning desire she had been fighting for all this time._

_This time, Hermione was prepared for his move. There was an excited buzzing in her head and pounding in her chest as his lips met hers. His lips lightly brushed against hers, delicately playing with them, she met his careful, sweet and tender movements with a delicate response of her own, softly pressing her own lips against his. He gently lifted her head off of his lap and set her on the groundlightly. He then held himself above her and continued to kiss her. Hermione felt fireworks bursting and richocheting in her head as he did so. _

_The two proceed to undress eachother and were ready to make love after all this time. He began kissing her neck as he made his entrance. There was a pause, and she opened her eyes to see his angry black eyes flickering like hellfire above her. _

"_Would you mind telling me what became of your maidenhead?"_

_Hermione choked as she remembered what became of it. Tears stung her eyes as she looked up in fear at the man she loved. _

"_Nothing in your body is untouched. Everything has been tampered with. Your blood, contaminated as it is,I could stand before I remembered it's not even yours after so many transfusions. You've been poked and prodded, cut and fixed along every tendon, bone and muscle, the marrow in your bones have been tapped more than a tree for sap. The hands of complete strangers have touched you more than any lover. You kept nothing for me, didn't you?"_

_She opened her mouth to explain when she was paused by him tracing the long scar between her breasts._

"_Absolutley nothing here is mine," he growled. "It's not even yours!"_

"_Please!" she cried. "I love you!"_

_He continued to trace the scar. He looked down at her, now with indifference rather than anger. He kept eye contact, piercing her soul with the disgust. He ripped open the scar with ease, causing Hermione a great deal of pain, she felt the icy fingers clutch her heart and rip it from her chest as though he were pulling a weed from its roots._

_Hermione stared at the man standing before her in shock as he stareddaggers into her. Crimson stained his white, icy hand as he dug his fingers into the still beating heart, causing more blood to spurt out of the veiny, pink organ. Hermione reached a weak arm out either to him or to the heart, she didn't know which._

_With the indifference of a child with an old toy, he examined the heart, eyes tracing the veins as he played with the tissue between his fingers. He then simply tossed it aside to lay indifferently in the cold grass forever._

_He then walked over to her and knelt by her without a tear to shed for her. She laid there dying because of him, and he acted as if he had simply took away a trinket or toy. He knelt down beside her and whispered harshly into her ear as she took her last breath._

"_It wasn't yours to give."_

With a gasp Hermione bolted upright with a cry and grabbed her chest. Looking down, she noted it had no tear and she had not been bleeding. There was little relief from knowing it was a dream. Her body wasn't hers, and she was quite literally heartless. How could she expect anyone to love her when she hadn't—she was being ridiculous, but she still found herself with her knees drawn up to chest with her arms wrapped about her legs and her head tucked into the protective gap between her torso and legs as she sobbed.

She was reminded she wasn't alone when she felt a pair of slender, firm arms encompass her. She wanted nothing more than to leave, but all she could do was weep as her back was soothed by hands that tore her heart from her chest and hushed by the voice that so condemned her in her dream.

Severus was to say the least, confused. Hermione had been angry with him, bared her soul completely and now wept inconsolably. She had fallen asleep, so he could reason it was a nightmare, but why it disturbed her so, he couldn't know. All he could do was wait for emotional exhaustion to kick in once more as he muttered vague assurances.

It wasn't long before she grew silent in his arms, her body went limp and her breathing softened to the point had they not been so close he might have been concerned. She seemed so helpless before him, the girl was pale and wan, looking rather like glass doll in comparision to the girl he had grown to know and love. This was a completely different side of her he imagined no one saw. He knew that she had never been a prime example of an emotionally stable person, but she never bared her soul so, especially not with the likes of him.

He merely sighed and rested his cheek at the top of her head and waited for signs of stirring in the exhausted girl. He thought about what he was going to do with her a bit further. He thought he'd had it figured out, but he couldn't deny how safe for her his decision actually was. It clearly had advantages and disadvantages, one of them being the fact that it was wildly inappropriate and though Dumbledore was more than happy about it, he was undoubtedly the only one and frankly Dumbledore trusted him far too much to weigh the pros and cons himself.

Severus knew she wasn't his to keep, or at all. Finding her when she was most apt to break down didn't mean she was trusting him. A wave of guilt came over him as he knew that he had purposely agitated her into a break-down more than once. Hermione was a fine instrument that he could play to any tune he wanted effortlessly. This was something he was more than ashamed of, but he continued to do it. It wasn't often he did it either, but that wasn't any excuse.

"_Your mother's going to kill me." Severus sighed as he lifts his head from the table to look at a small girl staring out the window. She is Hermione's height and about fifteen or sixteen years of age. She is leaning over the window staring at nothing._

_Severus doesn't know why he was talking to this girl or why he thought the girl's mother would kill him, but he knew that he was frustrated with her and that he cared about her. There was something strangely familiar about her. She is petite with black curls cascading down her back and from what skin he could see, she was fair skinned._

"_She isn't the only one." She says with a growl. "I just don'tsee why you couldn't be more patient with him."_

_What is she talking about? He wonders why he feels so strongly towards as the words leap from his lips, and unlike before they are his own._

"_Who are you?"_

_The girl turns around and he sees her for the first time. The blue clad pallid thing is painfully familiar. Black curls draped over small shoulders and framed a pale round face with delicate features. Her eyes, her eyes are large and round and were a warm chocolate brown. Just like Hermione's!_

_That's when he looks at her cupped hands and sees a tiny yellow thing resting and singing cheerily in them. It's a canary, one he had seen before, and when he looks into those black eyes of his, he knows where. Some time ago, he saw this very same bird with his eyes clouded over in death._

_He looks at the girl again and wonders why she is holding a bird that was once dead and cradled in Hermione's arms. She opens her mouth and finally speaks._

"_Dad?"_

id:7135195

It was dark when Severus opened his eyes to see that he had been laying down beneath the tree with a small cloak draped over him like a blanket and his head propped a folded peice of fabric. He lifted his head to see Hermione sitting beside him, tearing a piece of paper into shreds.

"What are you doing, girl?" he groaned rubbing his eyes.

Hermione gasped with a slight jump at the sound of his voice. "Ah, you're awake."

"How long were we here?" he asked moving to sit up, he folded the cloak and gave it back to the girl.

"I don't know. I just came to not that long ago."

"The peice of paper you're ripping to shreds," he began looking at her hands paused from the tearing. "What is it?"

"I couldn't wake you," she sighed. "I was going to write you a note explaining why i was gone and I decided I couldn't leave you alone in here asleep. Conscience wouldn't let me."

Severus locked eyes with Hermione briefly before she had turned her head away from his gaze. He might have done the same had the gaze lingered much longer. He had dreamt he fathered a child of hers, and he couldn't help but feel there was an implication the two were raising her together. He had no desire for a family before that dream, but that had changed. He wanted not just her, but a life with her. Hermione had been haunting his dreams for a while now and she would continue to as his feelings for her grew stronger. He wondered when sympathy and attraction turned into the intense feelings he wasn't able to shake. He reasoned this longing would only grow worse the longer it was unspoken.

Hermione was chewing her hair as she averted his gaze. He was awake, not helpless, her conscience shouldn't be keeping her sitting infront of him anymore, the smart thing to do would be to get up and walk away, but she couldn't. _It was a dream, get over it!_ She scolded herself as she bit her bit of hair harder. A sigh came from the man in front of her and a lecture was sure to follow as he moved her hair behind her ears.

"Hermione," he now placed a hand on either cheek and was trying to establish eye contact. "There's something I need to tell you."

"And I'm sure whatever it is can wait." Said a voice from above them.

Hermione looked up to see McGonagal standing above them with her signature severe expression. She felt she might shrink beneath her disapproving gaze before she realized it looked much worse for Snape. He was alone with a female student in the middle of the night in a courtyard one would have to go out of their way to come across. But she couldn't suspect him of...Though she did seem more upset with him than she was with her.

"Would you mind explaining why you felt the need to summon a student at three AM?" she scowled as Snape got to his feet.

"I didn't summon the girl." He said. "I found her here asleep. I couldn't sleep and came here to kill time. She was passed out at the base of the tree."

"That at least explains why she looks like that," said McGonnagal indicating the blades of grass on her clothing and in her hair as well as leaves and twigs. "But why is there grass in your hair?"

Hermione looked at her teacher turning pink at her insinuation. Why everyone believed they were sleeping together she didn't know, but it was passed the point of irritating her, it now terrified her. Would she be responsible for Snape being fired?

She felt the weight of her guilt pressing on her while she rose to her feet. Snape began to reach out to help her but stopped when his eyes moved to the glowering old woman before them. Hermione hoped she hadn't noticed the way she did.

"I think you've helped her enough, Severus," McGonagal hissed.

"What on earth are you talking about, Professor?" asked Hermione in her most winsome little girl voice with a wide-eyed innocent stare that she had reserved for explaining Harry and Ron out of a ditch.

"Miss Granger," McGonnagal sighed. "I don't believe you'd do anything, but the circumstances I've found you in—I can't ignore it and it needs to be looked into." She turned around. "Perhaps you two should follow me. And, Severus? You never did explain why there are blades of grass on your clothes and in your hair..."

Hermione noticed him draw his wand quietly and point his wand at McGonnagal. With a simple gesture the old woman fell to the ground.

"What the hell did you do?" she cried kneeling by McGonnagal.

"A memory charm," he knelt beside Hermione leaving precious little space between them.

"Because we couldn't explain we weren't doing anything?" she scoffed.

"There was no way she'd believe it!" he then turned her face to his. "You wouldn't have played up the 'innocent little girl' thing if you didn't think so."

"Forgive me if I thought coming across as innocent was something we might want to do!"

Snape rolled his eyes and let go of her face. "_You_ came across as innocent. What you didn't think of is how drawing attention to the fact that you're a helpless little girl would affect the grown man you were found alone with in the middle of the night!"

"Oh," Hermione bit her lip and looked down.

"Well, I'm shocked." He growled.

"What on earth are you two arguing about this late?" McGonagal looked at the two, then took in her surroundings. "Why are we here? And why on earth are you two covered in grass and leaves?"

Severus looked at his student who still bit her lip, now in nervous thought. Niether he nor Hermione could come up with something and McGonnagal was getting impatient. He flipped through excuses like pages in a book, hopefully less obviously than Hermione did.

"Severus!" she said incredulously looking at both of them. "Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" Hermione squeaked.

"I can't believe—"

He quickly grabbed his wand and cast the memory charm again.

"Now you're just going to cause brain damage," she rolled her eyes and gestured to the teacher. "Honestly!"

"Oh, I'm sure you knew exactly how to deal with her suspiscions! It was quite evident in how confidently you replied to her questions after biting a hole in your lip! The squeaking was particularly convincing."

"Just get rid of the leaves and grass blades before she—"

"Granger? Severus?"

And of course the same questions came from poor McGonagal.

"She fainted and knocked me over" he replied at the very same time Hermione answered with "I fell from a tree and landed on him."

"So which is it?" she eyed the two skeptically.

"I fainted and knocked him over" "She fell from a tree and knocked me over"

"Which is it?"

Severus cast Hermione a "say-nothing" look and grabbed her fidgeting hand.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came here to kill time," he tightened his grip on the shaking hand in his. "I found the girl asleep in one of the branches. I called to wake her up, she responded by bolting upright, which caused her to get dizzy and faint. Her fainting made her fall out of the tree and I was knocked over when I caught her."

"Why didn't you just catch her with a spell?" she laughed.

Hermione read too much into this innocent question, when he was about to offer to help McGonagall up he heard a shaky voice cry "Obliterate!" and for the third time McGonagall was out.

"Hermione!" he barked. "She believed it!"

"I panicked!" she snapped, wand shaking in her hands.

"Remind me not to take you as an ally should I need one in a life-or-death situation." He grumbled using a quick spell to remove the grass from his clothes and hair in a second. "Now put the wand away and lay down."

"What?" Hermione choked.

"I'm telling her you fainted to avoid this from happening again. It would be a feat for you to mess things up even further if you're pretending to be unconscious."

"Okay, so where'd I faint? And why'd she faint?" Hermione drilled him for details. He'd impress her yet.

"I ran into her on my way here, she accompanied me," he couldn't resist the urge to pinch her cheek. "And you, my sweet , little darling, were found at the base of the tree not breathing. She fainted when I said you weren't breathing. I performed CPR and you were able to breathe again. And fortunately you hadn't gained consciousness."

Hermione began to walk over to the tree when he gathered her in his arms. "Stop squirming, you're unconscious."

"Jerk."

"Well, I'm simply devastated to find you think that, sweetheart." He laughed. "Maybe if you're a good little girl I'll finish what I was about to say sometime we're in Canada."

Hermione's eyes widened and she coked as she nearly leaped from his arms. "_We're?"_

"Shh!" he smirked. "You're unconscious."

"She's far out of eye and ear shot," Hermione huffed not ten minutes after McGonagall retired to her chambers. "Any chance I could walk?"

"Of course," he said setting her down. "I might as well give my arms a rest. I'd give you five minutes before I have to pick you up again because you've fainted."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured to her standing body. "I'm going to be fine."

"You always say that," he walked on past her and took her hand. "I simply don't believe you anymore."

"Why?" she demanded taking her hand back.

Severus sighed as he eyed the angry little girl before him. Hadn't they had this conversation before? Several times? Would they ever have a conversation not pertaining to why he didn't believe her? Flustered, he grabbed her hand back and dragged her behind him.

"What did you mean 'we're'?" she asked, now keeping pace.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When you said 'when we're in Canada'?"

"I meant exactly what I said." He marched on.

"But what did you mean by 'we're'?"

"We're, a contraction of we and are!" he explained, skirting around her actual question.

The frazzled girl broke free of his grasp and cut him off, standing infront with him blocking him from moving any further.

"You're going to tell me what you meant right now!" she shrieked her eyes wide open and burning.

He sighed as merely walked around her. Severus badly wished to walk past her and leave her , but his desire to be near her won out. He hadn't moved three paces before turning back toward her. Hermione had began to walk away as well. He walked up beside her and took her hand in his.

Luna and Neville had been walking back from the watching the albino moths return from their migration. Despite the fact she, Neville and Hermione had all agreed to see the return of the moths (after much urging on Luna's part), the return still made her ecstatic. She forgot about Hermione's absence once the clear black sky was filled with fluttering, translucent gossamer wings dancing around the silver sliver that was the moon. It was the most beautiful thing she saw every year and she was glad to have shared it with Neville.

"We'll talk about it in the morning." A baritone voice from around the corner said. "We'll need to prepare for class anyway. It's Friday, it'll be your last."

Neville paled at the sound of the oh-too familiar voice and huddled against the wall. Luna, curious to see who Snape had been talking to decided to peer around the corner. Hermione's absence from the moths' return was no longer just forgotten, but also forgiven when Luna saw her walking down the corridor with her hand in his.

Hermione must have been an idiot for not seeing the way he looked at her, Luna concluded. Snape had now turned to face her and moved her leaf strewn bushy hair from her face. She wondered why Hermione was covered in leaves and grass when Snape was completely clean, but it became a minor detail when she smiled sheepishly and looked up at him with affectionate light in her eyes. "You mean I'm not fired?"

He laughed lightly and lifted her face slightly by her chin. "Hermione, did I ever say you were fired?"

"No, but after—"

"You assumed that I'd call it off because of our arguement?" he asked amusement fading from his voice. "Hermione, what kind of a man do you think I am?"

Hermione said nothing, the two traded intense gazes after she had to avert hers in shame. Luna recognized it well when Hermione was confronted with something she didn't understand. But now there was guilt and pain palpable even from Luna's distance.

"Look at me," he sighed sadly, probably shame from learning what she thoughtof him. He turned her face to his very gently. "Sweetheart, I'm a foolish man. I'm ornery and stubborn ...but I'm not petty."

The two shared a lingering gaze, intense with passion as they lost themselves in eachother's eye. Hermione moved closer to him with caution in her step, Snape , in turn,reacted by slowly and lightly circling his arms around her waist, she raised her hands to his shoulders and he began to lower his face to hers when he suddenly whipped around to Luna's direction knocking Hermione off balance. He caught her just before she hit the floor.

"I know you're waiting for us to pass in the corner, you can come out!" he snapped still holding Hermione from under her arms.

Luna sighed and dragged Neville behind her, which was a feat considering her diminutive size, and left the safety of around the corner. Neville stood behind her shaking, the two were mere paces from the teacher and her friend.

"Luna?" Hermione asked as she took to her fate with the unneeded aid of Snape.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" he glowered.

"We were just on our way returning to our dorms after watching the albino moths' return from the great migration," Luna explained with a smile.

"There are these lovely little things called windows—" Snape began but was cut off by Hermione.

"That was tonight?" Hermione cried slapping her forehead with unnecessary force. "God, Luna, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!"

"You knew about this?" he turned back to her with a less than impressed look.

"It was my idea," she groaned convincingly. "For years the three of us had been watching it from windows, and the migration came up in conversation not too long ago, so we decided to get together for the return and watch it more closely." Hermione looked at her friends. " Don't blame them, I was adamant to the point eventually they just couldn't say no. I'm not sure you're aware of it, but I can be quite an annoyance, for some it's quite persuasive."

"Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I'm quite aware of that," said he "If you three wanted to see it so badly,why didn't you get enough students together to make a case and get permission?"

Hermione only replied with another face-palm, this one still noticeably forceful.

"Stop that!" he grabbed her hand.

"She didn't because it was my idea," Luna answered and stifled a giggle as Snape intercepted Hermione's hand and kept his fingers laced between hers. "I think she wants to remove the blame from us by saying it was her idea. I don't know why she thinks so, it's rather silly."

"Indeed," he agreed looking at Hermione, thenturning back to Luna. "Typically, I'd be stripping points from your respective houses and put you in detention. But your stumbling across us turned out to be convenient for me." He let go of Hermione's hand in favour of moving behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I have business to attend to. See to it that Miss Granger makes it to Gryffindor Tower in one peice."

With that he left the three confused.

Luna sat at the Ravenclaw table and eyed Hermione excitedly. She was so curious about what she saw she couldn't wait for knitting club to talk to her. Hermione left the Gryffindor table without touching her food, again. Luna decided to ask the questions in private and follow her out of the Great Hall.

"Hermione?"

"Hi, Luna," she replied turning around with her eyes wide, yet relieved.

"Afraid I was someone a little more—"

"Yeah," Hermione answered before she could finish the question. "I have to meet him at some point this morning and after last night, I'm a little, well, nervous. I need to take a walk."

Luna enthusiastically linked her arm in Hermione's and beamed, knowing she was being a tad childish. "Care for some company."

"You know I can't say no to you."

"Yes you can."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and the two left.

Luna was skipping stones in the lake as Hermione sat at the base of a tree and wrote in one of her journals.

"So, what were you two up to?" she asked abandoning her rocks to sit beside Hermione.

Hermione eyed Luna for a second before laying down with her head in her lap. "You wanted to play therapist, Luna, so prepare yourself for the unloading of the century!"

"Oh, I want to hear that!" Ron exclaimed sitting down beside them.

Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny had asked around and looked for them. The search brought them here, Luna was a little off-put at first, but then figured it wasn't her place to interrogate Hermione anyway. The four of them joined the huddle, Hermione lifted her head to allow Luna to lay down, she put her head back down on her stomach, Ginny then placed her head on Hermione's stomach and Harry on Ginny's.

"Join us," Luna laughed looking up at Ron and Neville. "You know you want to."

"I don't want them to!" Hermione spoke with her melodramatic voice. "I'm obsessive-compulsive, Luna, and we already have a square. Ron and Neville join and it'll be ruined! I'll not have non-Euclidean geometry!"

"Suck it up, buttercup!" Ron laughed.

At this Ron set his head on Harry's stomach and Neville laid by Harry's feet and gently lifted Luna's head laying her head on his stomach.

"Now, what about promised the unloading of the century?" Ron chuckled.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione sighed. "Well, I suppose it wasgoing to occur to you guys anyway."

"Oh?" Harry asked, concern peeking in his voice.

She paused to let them speculate silently before continuing. Luna wondered briefly if she would tell all of them about last night. Other than craving her curiosity, she imagined it'd be cathartic for Hermione.

"Ron is such a jerk!" Hermione ranted. "I swear he is the single biggest jackass I've met! I swear, you people wouldn't believe how much of a jerk this guy is!"

"Hey!" Ron cried.

The friends burst out laughing as they all looked at the sky. Luna wished the moment wouldn't end. It has been a while since the lot of them were together for reasons so innocent and all of them were happy. It was so carefree, light and just happy. Luna didn't care her curiosity hadn't been sated and was glad their friends had found them.

"I don't blame you,Hermione," Harry cackled. "I feel the same way."

"Feeling's bloody mutual, Harry!" Ron tried to pout but his lips cracked a smile.

"It's okay, sweetie," Ginny comforted her brother. "It's not your fault you're that way."

"I know it's not his fault he's that way," Hermione continued, "But, goodness gracious! He's just awful! Biggest arse I've ever met!"

"I sure hope you're not talking about me," said a voice from above them.

Luna looked up to see Snape with a blank expression on his face. The line had been said to draw their attention to him, but she suspected he actually thought they were talking about him. He looked at Hermione somewhat hurt. She would probably never know how much her opinion meant to him, despite Luna's many efforts.

"What's going on, Professor?" asked Luna before Harry could say something to set him off.

"Miss Lovegood, are you aware that the rules regarding school boundries apply to you lot as well, aren't you?"

"Lake's technically school grounds," Hermione but in. "The forest is protected by funding from the school giving it partial owner ship."

"Partial." He agreed to that point as he moved to stand almost directly over Hermione. "Meaning that this is not school grounds. You should have been able to figure that out, my little wordsmith."

"I wasn't finished," Hermione continued with her matter-of-fact tone that drove Luna bonkers. She wished Hermione saw what she did. "That contract was drawn up a very long time ago. When it was drawn up the forest hadn't quite reached the lake because it had been cleared beyond the lake. Making everything a mile that way—" she pointed beyond the lake "—property of the school."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," he spoke, his face reddened and his words dripped in sarcasm as he knelt at her side and leaned in close to her. "I wasn't aware you had every single contract ever drawn up regarding the school memorized."

"If you don't believe it," she nudged Ginny and the three in the chain before her let her up. "Check yourself to see if it remained unchanged. Just remember I have alot of time on my hands where I do nothing but read, and I've made a hobby in finding loopholes since my second year."

"Why am I not surprised?" he sighed. "Let's see if you can use that ability to get out of trouble for missing our appointment. You knew I asked to meet you this morning, and frankly, I don't appreciate the lengths I had to go through to find you a mere two hours before I have to teach a class. Well, I suppose it's a half-hour now, because you've made yourself so bloody difficult to find."

"You never specified a time, Professor," Luna interjected looking at Hermione, who became even smaller than her as she chewed on a strand of hair. "After breakfast I came up to her, suggested we go for a walk. She said she had to meet up with you at some point this morning, I asked what time and she said you didn't specify." Luna then shrugged. "Obviously, if she came to see you anytime before noon, she'd ave kept her word."

"You're a clever little girl aren't you?" he began.

"Leave the poor girl alone," Hermione sighed. "She hasn't done anything wrong."

"Oh?" he turned his attention back to where Luna had tried to take it from.

"Tell me, what exactly did Luna do wrong?"

Snape turned pink after thinking on it a while and Luna's pity for the man was re-kindled. Hermione needed to decide whether or not she was going to make herself accessable to him. He obviously wasn't consistant in how he showed his affections for her, but he at least made it painfully obvious he had feelings of a sort for her. Even if she deemed him to be a tad possessive at times, Snape was at least trying. Hermione followed an inconsistent pattern that left him in the dark. Even an outsider saw the complete switch from the sympathetic friend to the antagonistic bitch. Hermione's behaviour left Snape so insecure about her feelings for him that he had to do what he could to ensure she wouldn't run off. In turn, Snape's behaviour grated on Hermione and she didn't know whether she had to fight, flee or accept him and her feelings for him. Luna wished Hermione would just make up her mind.

"She didn't do anything wrong," he finally admitted. "Though sixteen is a _far_ cry from an adult, you do make your own decisions. Which brings me to take twenty points from Gryffindor and reinstate the detentions I had so generously let you out of."

"That isn't fair!" Harry snapped pointing to Hermione. "Hermione agreed to go through with the bet _you _proposed and she's probably going to win, which according to the terms _you_ outlined, is supposed to get her out of those detentions."

"And it will if she does," he began setting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "That doesn't stop her from acquiring new punishments for her many displays of appalling behaviour."

Ron stared at the hand clutching Hermione's shoulder. He opened his mouth but was cut off as the man continued.

"That'll be ten additional points, Potter, and you can join her for the first week in detention. Whatever you're going to say, Weasley, I'm sure it'll put you in the same position, so choose your words carefully, boy."

Ron turned pink and folded his arms across his chest as his gaze became down cast when Hermione mouthed 'don't make things worse' to him.

"I—_we_ don't have time for this!" he huffed grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her out of the grove.

Luna prayed their interaction would go better when they were alone. They certainly went well last night when they were about to kiss.

"I'm betting she wishes he'd go back to ignoring her now," Ginny said getting up.

"He can pay as much attention to her as he bloody well wants," Ron grumbledlifting his bag. "But I'm sick of seeing his hands all over her everytime I see them. It's disgusting."

"It's weird, Ron," Harry agreed. "Snape's a lot of things, but he's not a pedophile."

"Actually, I think once you're over sixteen it doesn't count as pedophilia. It's just a large age difference." Luna offered.

"Even if he would, Hermione wouldn't..." Harry began.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Harry," said Neville. "Luna and I saw the two of them and it looked like they were about to kiss."

Luna could have slapped Neville for saying that infront of Ron. The others could eventually know and it would be fine, but Ron loved Hermione and the idea of her being with anyone was bad, but the well-hated professor.

"He had her in an embrace and their faces were close," Luna admitted at her friends' gazes. "But it looked like he was just holding her up and examining her face." She lied.

"He probably told her that too," Ron grumbled.

Luna rolled her eyes and began to walk out of the grove and her friends followed her. When they parted ways she noticed Harry trying to calm down Ron for a change. She wondered if Hermione's leaving the country would set things back to normal for those four.

"Hermione!"happily cried Remus Lupin who stood at the door waiting for them.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped in delight.

Severus wished his mere presence would make the make her that happy. He swallowed his jealousy and explained why he was there as he recalled their late night interaction the night before.

**4:27AM Previous Night:**

"I've been waiting forever, Snape," Lupin huffed gesturing to the pile of dirty coffee mugs he had to buy while waiting.

Severus had arranged to meet Lupin hours ago, they had corresponded through letters for a few days and had agreed to meet at the Three Broomsticks hours before four AM.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, I got tangled up in a bit of a mess." He replied nonchalantly. "I am, however, glad you waited so long. A sane person might have left hours ago."

Lupin laughed as Severus seated himself across from him. "A sane person wouldn't just up and leave his job for a week. Are the students really driving you so mad?" concern then crossed his face. "Or is it something else...?"

"it's nothing like that, Lupin," he replied taking a great weight off the werewolf's shoulders. "Young Miss Granger is heading off to Canada for the week with nothing resembling protection. She has been assigned to me as a charge."

"Assigned" was a term used loosely. Severus appealed to Dumbledore to let him go with the poor defenceless girl incase something happened. It made sense for the death eaters to want her out and for them to strike when she was only amongst muggles. Though it would throw Potter off his game, him agreeing to protect the girl would serve as a signal to the death eaters it was too early to start hacking away at Potter's sidekicks.

"So, I only need to teach your class for a week?" Lupin asked. "Pending you don't come back prematurely weeping."

"I crave your pardon?" he growled.

"Hermione's a strong independant girl," Lupin began."I'm sure she will have alot to say about being guarded like a child when she's perfectly capable."

"She can complain all she wants. She isn't perfectly capable, she's a defenceless little girl and she's eventually going to have to accept that."

"Let's not forget you and Hermione grind against eachother on the best days."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on," Lupin laughed. "Everyone knows you two grind against eachother."

_What! _Severus's mind screamed. _Sure, I've fanaticized about the girl, but I never touched-_

"It's gotten better," he sighed catching his meaning hating his perfectly innocent choice of wording to express they didn't get along. "I've grown a tad fond of the girl since she was assigned to me."

"Doesn't mean the feeling's mutual, Severus," Lupin jokingly reminded him.

"Don't remind me." He got up and left a sickle on the table. "You start Monday. Meet me at my office about nine AM and I'll give you the briefing."

**Present.**

"I'm sorry I'm late," he fished the keys out of his pocket. "I'm afraid both times I've kept you waiting were because this _darling_ little thing beside me. I'm afraid my little TA likes to make herself difficult to find when needed."

"She's your charge _and _your TA?" Lupin laughed. "How in hell are either of you still alive after spending so much time together."

"Psychoactive drugs," Hermione joked before turning back to Severus. "Charge?"

"Did you think I volunteered to go to Canada with you?"

"I assumed you drew straws," she said.

Severus let them into his office and walked over to a high shelf diminutive TAs couldn't possibly reach to retrieve both his and Hermione's class notes. The height discrepancy between a tall man and short girl was frustrating for the poor girl and amusing enough to Severus to enchant the notes so no one could simply levitate them.

He set the plans on his desk and grabbed the books and things he needed for the class he had to teach. "I have to go. Hermione, go over the plans with the class you teach for him."

"Yessir," she opening her notes over the desk.

"I'll be here in an hour or so, Lupin. You can meet me back here so we can go over our other classes. And, Hermione sweetheart, do try and remember you have a class to teach at noon. I don't want another re-run of this morning."

"He calls you by terms of endearment now?" Lupin asked with a chuckle.

"Only for condescention purposes, Remus."

"Never would have guessed," he laughed. "How on earth did he decide to give you a position as a TA?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"You're early," Severus noted as Hermione showed up to meet him outside the classroom.

"You've never commented on being five minutes early before," she said. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, little girl," he ushered her into the classroom. "I don't know why you read so much into little comments."

"Because I have to." Hermione left it at that as she opened her book to the respective page and began to underline certain parts.

"You're ten minutes early, by the way. I always took you for a bibliophile," he commented as she marked up the pristine pages.

"I'm sure you have alot of assumptions about me that are wrong," she looked at him with an exhausted expression. "and I know I've made the same mistake with you."

"Talk to me, Hermione," he closed the book she meticulously examined. "What's bothering you?"

"So you're my keeper _and_ my therapist now?"

"Fine. Forget it." He huffed slumping into his chair.

It seemed a century passed in their silence. Snape stared at her as she underlined and noted things leaning over one of the students' desk. Had their encounter that morning been that horrible she couldn't speak to him? Or was it what happened the night before? He nearly kissed her, again, and the shock value it would have should be gone when he had kissed her before, and very nearly—but it was different this time, for one, there had been no alcohol involved and it was painfully obvious this time he was going to kiss her. And to add another new element, she was about to meet him half way this time. It wasn't all him this time, which as much as it relieved him, must have frightened her greatly.

"Why did you agree to go to Canada with me?" she finally broke the silence.

"Because I have to."

"So, you weren't even given an option?" she asked

"I had the option, and I decided to go."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in a confused suspicion. "Then why-?"

"I told you, Hermione," he sighed. "Because I have to."

Hermione finally turned to look at him, and her expression was next to dead. "Well, isn't that the cop out answer of the century? Should have expected it from the most guarded human being on the planet. God, do you even remember the last time you were open with anyone?" she demanded with her eyes wide, fearful and most importantly, angry. "The last time you were open with yourself?"

Severus felt his anger mounting. How could she just say any of that? Was she trying to set him off? It was obviously another pathetic attempt to push him away; perhaps she thought if she angered him enough he'd not accompany her on her trip. Or maybe she actually cared...Either way he did not care to be called out by someone just as closed as him, if not more.

"You know what, little girl," he hissed grabbing her by the crook of her arm. "I'm willing to listen to this lecture coming from anyone but you. _I think you know why!_"

"Let go of me!"

"Who's the hypocrite now?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

There was a silence until the students arrived.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Hermione asked the students as she looked longingly out the window. "Why don't we hold class outside today?"

There was an excited buzzing among the students that Severus resented. Why did this girl have such a good handle on them when she had absolutely no influence whatsoever among her peers? Did she know he had been teaching them longer? That he had worked harder to produce the mediocre level of attention and effort they displayed? Who was this little girl to waltz into his classroom and take over? Who the hell did she think she was? No matter, he would put her beneath him once more...

But that's not really what he wanted... He wanted her at his side as his equal. But the way she was treating him was so inconsistent it was cruel. He never knew what to think of how she felt about him and at times swore she knew it meant everything to him.

He despised himself for hoping it'd rain when they led the students out into the main yard and gathered in a small circle beneath a vast and majestic maple. The lot of them sat in a circle, Severus sat by Hermione and noted the young boy on his other side shift down leaving prescious little space between his neighbour, but a generous amount between them. He again felt a twinge of jealousy toward his little apprentice.

The lot of them opened the books to the respective chapters and awaited instructions. They sat for the duration of the class and she let the class speak freely about the chapter the test would be on. Hermione interjected only a few times to correct someone or reference a page in the book. Listening to the students have a conversation about the material, Severus was surprised at how well the majority of them seemed to understand it.

"Don't forget about the test on Monday," Severus said as the bell from the tower sounded for classes to change over. "And for the next week you'll all have a substitute as I'll be away."

With that, the class left the feild to pursue their next classes.

The two silently gathered there things and headed inside. Once they were in the building Severus and Hermione started off in separate directions. If they were going to be in a different country for an entire week together they would have to be able to speak to eachother. Why not start now?

"Miss Granger?" he called before she got too far.

"Yes?" she approached cautiously.

"I expect to see you on the train platform at seven. Do try to be on time...and preferably conscious."

Hermione responded with an eyeroll. "As you wish."


	22. Farewell

"Oh, I have things for you guys!" Hermione rummaged through her bags to retrieve what she had gotten for her friends.

The lot of them had gathered at the platform early to bid farewell to Hermione. She felt the moment was appropriate to give them their letters she had laboured over so long. It had to be done...there was a chance of her not coming back from Newfoundland, and they had to know why. She had written letters and folded them inside trinkets she enchanted to remain closed until after she died. Everything was explained and she profusely apologized about her way of telling them. She knew it was a bit over kill to do so now, but her episodes were getting worse and it was a very real possibility she wasrejecting the heart.

"Neville," she smiled as she pulled out a blown glass orb swirling with red and clear glass. "Here's yours."

Neville's eyes widened as the globe sparkled with the golden rays of the setting sun, casting a gold light through it. It was beautiful, her Nanna's glass orbs always were. "Hermione, you...you're only going away for a week."

"My Nanna blows class," Hermione explained. "I missed your birthday this year and asked her to make a red one. Kind of like your rembrall? I figured it was an interesting keepsake where our first non-school help, non-lost toad conversation was about that. Also, I want you to hang it by the window so you see the sun sparkling through it. The glitter you see within is to help you remember the beauty in you. It's also very pretty."

"Tell your Nana I said thanks." He smiled hugging her.

Hermione then went back to her bag till she found Luna's. It was a silver locket with an encrusted blue jewel with a bronze star in the centre of it. "The blue jewel and bronze star are indictive of the Ravenclaw house, but that's not what made me want you to have it. You are a hell of alot like my sister, Phoebe, smart, creative, eccentric and musical. My sister has a necklace like this that is supposed to bring her luck. Let's hope it brings you the same."

Luna excitedly wrapped her arms around Hermione and pulled back with a smile. "It's wonderful Hermione, but aren't you above such silly superstitions?"

"You were right about something last year, Luna," Hermione began as she hugged her once more. "I practice magic, something I once thought was impossible. I really need to open my mind."

The entire group broke into laughter and tackled her with a group hug, coming in from all angles. Harry ruffled her hair and smiled. "Look, Ginny, our little girl's growing up."

"Daddy, why is Mamma a year younger than me?" Hermione asked in her baby voice.

"I'll tell you when you're older!" he laughed.

"Well, my good and wise,paternal Harry," she teased knowing they both knew she had always been maternal over the group. "Let's see what's in my little bag of tricks for you," she pulled out then a tiny golden lion with wings and red eyes resembling that of the philosopher's stone. In the lion's open mouth was a porcelain scroll (that would break to reveal her note in the lion) and it stood atop an upside down goblet. "This was a bitch to make!" she laughed.

"Oh my God, Hermione" Harry began. "You _made_ that?"

"I've been studying alchemy, and I've wanted to try something. Between this and Luna's necklace, I'm amazed I had anytime to study!"

"OH, Hermione!" the grouped laughed.

"I wanted to make Neville's too, but my Nana's orbs are much prettier than anything I could make. The lion is symbolic of Gryffindor, the eyes are the colour of the philosopher's stone, that adventure that brought a very unlikely group together. The scroll is supposed to be the peice of paper you took from my hand, symbolizing that even when we're away you always can count on your friends to help you. The wings are both symbolic of the hippogriff, and you. Don't lose hope, follow your dreams and you will soar...Or something less cheesy." Hermione then noted the goblet. "Oh, and it's quite obvious that's the goblet of fire."

"Oh, Hermione!" he admired the item she had laboured over. "It's brilliant. I can't believe you'd go through the trouble to do something like this. The thought you put into it alone..." he hugged her. "Thank you!"

"Ginny!" Hermione managed before she'd get teary-eyed. She produced a blown glass bottle that possessed the colours of the rainbow swirling in intricate ways and lidded with a read "New Dawn" rose. "This one was also made by Nana."

Ginny took the bottle and held it delicately in her hands. Light shone through the crystal glass not only illuminating the hand-sized bottle's many colours, but also creating a rainbow aura around the bottle and onto surfaces around it.

"The rainbow is one of the most lovely natural things on the planet. It's only a trick of light, but it proves to all of us, even the most mundane of events can create something truly extraordinary. Never underestimate what even a small contribution can do, and never underestimate yourself. The flower is a very particular rose called 'new dawn'. It is the hardiest of roses withstanding temperatures of ten below and the harshest of winds. It's too remind you that when you feel your most fragile, you have always withstood whatever was thrown your way, and you always. It also serves to remind you that soon a new dawn will come and the night will end. You're going to know peace."

"Dammit, Hermione!" Ginny said wiping her eyes with a smile. She handed the bottle to Ron and threw her arms around Hermione. "Hardiest of roses, huh? You're only gone a week and you've got me weeping already!"

"And here I was thinking Neville would be the first to tear up."

At this Ginny laughed and let go of her friend. "Thank your grandmother for me, and thank you."

"I will."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron elbowed his sister. "Now I have to up the anti for every Christmas and birthday! Do you know how hard it is to please her?"

"Last I checked it wasn't that hard." Hermione laughed. "And Ron gets nothing because he's a jerk!" she stuck her tongue out, but before allowing for a pause she dug out a realitvly large picture frame. "Except for this!"

The frame itself was decorated with shards of glass and shells. The pictures within made a collage. One picture was of him carrying her as she held up her hand, another was one Hermione took last year of Ron and Harry drinking butterbeer at the Three broomsticks. There was another candid picture Hermione took of him, he was comforting Ginny in some hall as she was still disturbed by Mrs. Norris's blood written on the wall days after. She had a slight smile on her face as Ron cracked a joke. The next was of Ron and Neville laughing at the supper table as Ron had his carrots in his mouth like a walrus. Neville had been having a particularly bad day. It was the first potions class for their third year adn Snape had been particularly cruel. There was a picture in the bottom corner of Luna and Ron cackling as Ginny buried her face in her hands. The picture in the centre was one they had got Neville to take during their first year. It was of Hermione and Harry wrapping their arms around Ron under their favoured oak. The three of them were beaming, stuck in that happy moment forever. None of the pictures moved and fancy calligraphy scripted a poem on the matte.

_Dreary clouds loom over head,_

_Life has brought us more rain_

_Filing our broken hearts with dread_

_We all see the hurricane_

_But light pours through_

_The gloomy harsh rain_

_Everytime you laugh true_

_So, open your eyes, boy _

_I think we are saved_

_As you bring to us joy_

_Giving us strength to stay._

"I don't think I really need to explain that one." Hermione smiled. "You've always been there for all of us. You're not only loyal, but you can always make even the saddest people laugh. You make people happy. No one could ask for a better friend, brother or lover. Try and remember that. "

Ron embraced Hermione, and sighed as he lingered, latching on to her. He was also teary eyed when he let go. She laughedand wanted to tell him she wasn't dying, jut going away from the week, but she couldn't bring those words to her lips when an "if you;re reading this" letter sat under the collage. So she simply went on describing her work. "The shells are from the lake when we went there, and the glass is that butterbeer bottle you broke. The pictures are muggle ones because I wanted you to see us stuck in the moments you've helped us the most. Plus it was an artistic choice. As a closet photographer, I'm not too fond of moving pictures."

Before Hermione knew it, everyone set down their breakables and tackled her, nearly knocking the wind from her and sending them all to the ground. They all cackled as they sat and huddled together in a group hug. Hermione felt more love for these five in her heart than she knew what to do with. She couldn't have thought of a better way to say good-bye.

"Guys?" Hermione asked laying back down.

"Yeah,"

"Make sure Ron does his homework."

* * *

><p>Severus walked up to the pile of students he found as he came to the platfrom. Hermione had been circled by clinging friends and the lot of them were laughing lightly. As he approached closer he noticed a pair of teary eyed Weasleys and Lovegood eyeing Hermione with concern.<p>

"Did she faint? Is she hurt?" he asked kneeling infront of Hermione.

"I'm fine."

"That's up for debate," he sighed.

"She didn't faint." Harry said. "And she isn't hurt."

"Then why do Mr and Miss Weasley look like they've attended her funeral?"

Hermione hit her forehead and sighed. "I gave them gifts before I left," she said picking up Harry's. "They found it touching I'd go through the trouble to make them."

"You're only going to be gone a week. Why would you?" he asked.

"Ron said I needed a hobby that didn't involve reading. So the gifts are proof that I shouldn't persue any hobby that doesn't involve a nice book."

Severus eyed the girl and examined the winged lion in her hands. "That gold is alchemical. Couldn't you have tried painting or spinning?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've had too much time on my hands."

"Are you ready to leave or have your friends choked you up with their foolish sentimental display?"

Hermione rose to her feet and grabbed her cat. "I'm fine."

With that Hermione bid each of her friends a farewell. As the train began to move she prayed it wasn't her last.


	23. First Night

It was quiet. Too quite even for the likes of Severus Snape. The sound of the train's wheels moving against the rail was amplified by the silence in their compartment. Even the sound of Hermione's cat lightly snoring in her lap seemed to possess the volume of an explosion. He eyed Hermione over his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as she read a beaten up copy of _Les Miserables _(by Victor Hugo).

Hermione finished the book and pulled another out of her bag with as little movement as possible as to not disturb her precious kitty. He noticed again that the girl's reading taste was indeed varied as she opened an over used and abused copy of some book titled _The Dragon's Ascension_ (Ed Greenwood). The sound of her turning the pages punctuated the silence shared between the two.

"PPPmrrrrrrrooooowwwww," came a sudden end to the uncomfortable silence from her cat.

"Would you like me to read to you, Crookshanks?" Hermione laughed petting her cat.

A furious purring arose from the cat as she scratched behind his ears. The contented cat exchanged what seemed to be a satisfied, smug look with him as Hermione put down her own reading to fish out a book of Nineteenth Century poetry and began softly whispering into the cat's ear.

"If my presence bothers you enough to adjust the volume of your insane behaviour, it should discourage you from engaging in such behaviour period."

"Ar a laghad tá mo gealtachta comhsheasmhach!" Hermione sighed with an eyeroll.

"Excuse me?" Severus folded his paper and set it in his lap. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his bench displaying he could wait the entire train ride for her translation.

"I was speaking to Crookshanks."

"You cat's bilingual now?"

Hermione smirked as she scratched the cat's ear. The plump, ginger furball spilled over the sides of Hermione's legs and was easily the size of her torso. He couldn't understand how she could be so rational and logical yet treat that cat like a small child fit for spoiling. He prayed he would not be teaching by time her children were in school (and yet he wished her children to be his, his desires made no sense).

"Those who aren't bilingual in our family are at a serious disadvantage. We speak Gaelic at home, Professor. If you don't speak either Irish or Scots Gaelic, I'm afraid you're doomed. Momma doesn't speak much English and English is lost to Nana. She does know Welsh though."

"Don't you live in Whitby?" he asked in disbelief. By her accent, aside from being slightly more rhodic* than most people with most English dialects, he could tell there was no sign of any Gaelic influence. There was no way that he would believe she came from a non-English speaking home, even if he hadn't stumbled upon her mother's letter—Oh, he had her now. The letter was clearly written for her mother and was English.

"Momma's from Belfast, Dad's from Caerfyrddin. Yes, they both primarily speak English, but Dad just found it easier to communicate with Momma in Welsh before she taught him Gaelic. Nana, who's my Momma's mum, was actually a first generation Canadian from Scottish immigrants settling in New Waterford Cape Breton. My great grand-parents wanted perserve their Gaelic language, so they only taught Nana that. When Nana was sixteen, she met a my Grandad, a university student from Dublin vacationing in town. Much to my great-grandparents' dismay, she left to Ireland with him. Years later they settled down in Belfast of all places. They only taught Momma and her sister Irish and Scots Gaelic." Hermione flashed him a challenging smile then shurgged. "Ergo, a family that doesn't speak English."

Hermioe Granger was smart and an amateur authour, it wouldn't surprise him for her to have come up with that story on the spot, but yet, he still found himself questioning which bits were true. He quickly decided that the bit with the love sick teenaged girl and the geography were true, the rest were clearly lies. Who would want to cripple their child by not teaching her the cheif language of the area? And Someone clearly taught Hermione English. If it wasn't her first language, he would be shocked. In fact...

"That is a very entertaining story, Miss Granger," he said. "But a story nonetheless. I'm willing to bet you a week's worth of personal servitude that Gaelic hasn't been anyone's mother tongue in three-hundred years ."

"A week's worth of personal servitude?" she scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"The requests must be reasonable, of course," he shrugged though he already tasted his victory. "I don't want you wearing yourself out with too many tasks, now."

"I suppose I don't count then?" Hermione laughed. "Because I learned Gaelic as I learned English."

"If your mother and father confirm that little fact, of course you count."

"Deal!"

A silence passed before Severus decided to speak again. "Now, the translation of what you said to a cat who neither understands English or Gaelic."

"Huh?" she asked with confusion before something flickered in her eyes. "Oh, that. I was just commenting on how my insanity is this lovely little thing called consistent."

"Would you like a shovel for that hole you're digging?"

"I'm probably already as deep under as one can be with you," she said with an eyeroll.

"You'd be surprised."

"Of course,I'm not." she sighed. "I suggest you invest in some sort of dictionary or translator unless you'd like to be linguistically crippled."

"Oh, I already have myself a little translator," he smirked and leaned forward cradling his head in his hands.

Hermione's face paled and her shoulders slumped in disappointment after a brief defensive stance, though she still looked at him in disbelief. "Oh?"

"I'm looking at her."

"Mac soith!" she muttered under her breath.

"You can start with that!" he snapped.

"Son of a bitch!" she groaned slapping her forehead.

"Excuse me?"

"Did you not want a translation?"

She then looked at him, no surveyed him, for a long period of time. She bit her lip as her eyes narrow, through the fringes of her eyelashes he could see the chocolate orbs focus like magical lenses that would reveal to her his inner workings. It made him uneasy when she cocked her head to the side and released her lip. She raised an eyebrow and though she did not look happy, it seemed she had figured something crucial out. She folded her arms across her chest and opened her mouth. "There is absolutely nothing I can say to make you turn back before we've left the shores is there?"

"No."

The two left the platform in silence. The only words exchanged were Severus's criticisms of Hermione when she was easing that damn cat into his carrier, to which he saw it appropriate to pick him up and place him in the carrier. So now they walked in silence with their luggage, fuming. He did take amusement in Hermione looking rather much like a lost vagabond, with a cat-carrier in one-hand, suit case in the other and her guitar sitting on her back. He'd have offered to help with her things where all he had was a suitcase, but wasn't going to unless he thought she'd collapse where it was her cat that had scratched up his arms.

"We'll be taking six to Liverpool?" he asked when they stopped at a bench for Hermione to set down her whining cat.

"And you're sure you want to come?" Hermione asked for the millionth time.

"Miss Granger..."

"It's just..." she began leaning against the bench. "Look, if you find _me_ annoying, which we both know you do, then you won't be able to handle her. There's no way around it, Professor, I'm nothing more than a watered down version of my mother. If you don't like the watered-down version, you won't like her."

"Who said I didn't like the watered down version?" he asked lifting her face gently by the chin.

Genuine surprise crossed her face, her mouth hung only slightly open and her eyes widened slightly before blinking under knit brows. This only lasted for a second and she soon backed away from him and placed her hands on her hips as she rolled her eyes. "About forty percent of your actions."

"And the other sixty...?"

"Confuses the hell out of me." She sighed as her posture lost all rigidness from before and resignation rang in her words. She picked up the cat carrier and continued forward without looking back at her confused teacher. "Yes, we'll be taking six into Liverpool."

"Alright," he said as he followed her.

The train ride to Liverpool wasn't as uneventful as the one from Hogwarts. Despite being eight PM, all the train compartments were still nearly full. Severus and Hermione sat close enough together that her head quite nearly leant on his shoulder as she had inched closer and closer to him to give her some distance between her and the rambling drunk on her other side after attempts to ignore him by way of delving into a novel didn't work. The girl honestly should have known better than to humour him when he tried to strike a conversation with her. Of course she merely smiled and nodded at his incomprehensible English, but it was enough. He was amazed nine other people in the compartment (including himself and Hermione) and not one left to complain about him. The man seemed to pay attention to Hermione in particular, whether it was because she was the only one who humoured him or because she was beside him, he didn't know.

Hermione lifted her head from her book and turned to the rambling drunk slurring incomprehensibly and squared herself to meet him in the eye as she blinked at him. "Nil Bearla agam. An bhuiful Gaelige?"

Severus pulled her back closer to him and stared at the man he opened his mouth when an old man from sitting across from them took off his reading glasses and folded his newspaper staring daggers into the drunken rambler before him. "The girl said she don't speak English, you drunken lout. Leave the poor girl and her father alone." The old man than turned to Severus. "An bhuiful si go maith?"

He stole a look with Hermione who simply nodded as if it would serve as a translation. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the girl who was now moving from under the arm that she welcomed around her moments before. "Tá. Go raibh maith agat." She said sincerely than looked over to Severus before turning back to the old man.

The two exchanged smiles and returned to their reading. Severus couldn't have been happier when the drunk got to his feet on one of the later stops. His bliss soon faded when the drunk knelt before Hermione and set a hand on her shoulder, which she jerked away from. "Lassie, are you angry with me?"

"If she isn't I'd be surprised," Severus stood and grabbed him by his arm pulling him up to his feet. "Now, I believe my daughter said something about not speaking English, that should have told you to leave the poor girl alone. This is your stop, I suggest you get going ."

The man stumbled out with his news paper and bottle leaving the compartment a thousand pounds lighter. Severus looked down at Hermione who in turn looked at him with a great deal of surprise, not different from the night he had found her sleep walking and had snapped at his co-workers. He sat beside Hermione and tried to ignore the stares from people beside and across from him. He didn't know what bothered him more. The fact that Hermione was still surprised to see him defend her or that he was assumed to be the father of a girl he nearly slept with. It might not have bothered him so much had she been an adult, but didn't the fact he played along suggest there was something very wrong?

_Don't be foolish,_ he thought. _People are going to assume a grown man with a sixteen-year-old girl is her father or a pervert, you did what was necessary. Playing along with what the old man said doesn't make your fascination with the girl perverse. No more perverse than it already is..._

"Where will we be staying?" Severus asked Hermione as he unfolded a map worthy and wore an expression worthy of a confused tourist.

"My parents haven't finished moving from Liverpool, we only moved in the summer. So, we'll just be heading to Water Street to our old house. It's not far at all. We can walk," she reached over for his map and folded it. "Just follow me, you're good at that."

Severus eyed the girl as she stuffed the now folded map into a purse that risked falling off her shoulder and spilling. Honestly? She was still making these awful comments after everything he'd done for her? He remembered that night he brought her back to the castle drunk and swore she must have reciprocated. If she did, than she was more interested in denial than he was as it seemed she was continuing to try and shut him out of her life.

It wasn't even a half hour before Hermione turned to a small two story house with a grown over lawn and out-of-control ivy clinging to the white vinyl siding and lattice. Dust covered the front gate she unlatched to walk up to the door. "They were planning on either getting it ready to sell or potentially for Phoebe as a wedding gift, but they've been busy." She explained to him as she fumbled with her keys.

"Or they thought the plant-life taking over was attractive to your sister," he guffawed as he followed her in.

The inside didn't look nearly as neglected as the outside of her childhood home. Paisely walls were unmarred, and the hard-wood floors didn't have the dust-covering he expected. Though the stairs he noticed were covered with a thin layering of dust.

"When sleeping in the same room as an insomniac one must exercise caution," she warned closing the door behind her.

"That'd be threatening if I didn't know you'd faint in the middle of making your elaborate plans a reality," he sighed.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked past him to the stairs. "Come on, we can drop put our bags in the back bedroom upstairs. Crookshanks is dying to be set free. I'll go over the family guide of who's who and how to survive afterward."

The back bedroom was of a fair size, and unlike the entrance and the outside, it showed signs of someone living there. Two beds sat on either side of a large window that was still curtained. The walls were light blue and one wall had stars painted along it forming the main constellations around a bulletin board that was still riddled with post-its and photographs. A music stand stood in the corner by not a not-quite-emptied bookshelf. On the bed on that side of the room was a closed note book. The other side of the room were several open boxes filled with books and taped shut boxes. The only sign of someone being behind in packing on that side were three framed pictures beneath the lamp on a night stand.

Hermione walked over to the barren side of the room and set her luggage on the bed. She then knelt down to release her beast. "Come down to the kitchen and Momma'll feed you," she said affectionately to the cat as she picked up the fussy creature.

Severus walked over to the bulletin board to see many pictures of a woman nearly identical to Hermione, a slender man who only seemed tall when standing beside his petite wife, and a young blond girl through many ages. Hermione herself had been featured in few photographs, but in every one she was with the blonde girl. His eyes drifted over the smiling friends and family members depicted in photographs and found a list that he could recognize as Hermione's.

"Sail across a sea, plant a tree, make magical medicine available to muggles, visit Crete, find a cure to a disease, perform music in front of a group, attend a Ren fair, take up archery, be in two places at once..."

Hermione at some point had stopped talking to her cat to take note of Severus murmuring to himself. She approached as it hit him what the list might be. He swallowed and prayed Hermione might prove him wrong. "What is this?"

"A do-before-I-die list I had written when I was twelve," Hermione answered making his heart sink. "Some of those aren't even relevant anymore," she sighed taking it off her sister's board. "I wrote it so long ago, there's things I'm just not interested in doing anymore. Phoebe only put it up there because—" Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stood silent as she looked up at him.

"Hermione?"

"I told my cat I'd feed him," she said looking at the giant cat in her arms. "You can follow me or you can invade my privacy more if you'd like. I don't care."

She walked away from him. He followed not wanting to upset her more. He recognized he was on thin ice with her and knew if he wanted her to be anything other than unpleasant he would have to play nice.

The kitchen was of a fair size. Hermione set two bowls on the floor and filled one with water, and the other with cat chow she packed for the trip. Hermione set a piece of paper and pen on the table and slid it over to him. Hermione poured a pale amber liquid from a pitcher set in a fridge he did not recognize.

"My Aunt Colleen was here recently to grab a few things for Phoebe before she flew to Canada. So this is still edible if you're feeling adventurous." Hermione had already begun to pour a second glass as she spoke.

"I'll take a glass, but should someone like you really be experimenting with what she can put in her body?" he asked taking the glass from her. "Thank you."

Hermione threw her head back in laughter with an eyeroll as she sat beside him. "the things I've ingested and had injected into me over the years were experiments, so why shouldn't I be able to experiment on my own accord?"

"Very well," he said taking his pen. "I'm prepared to apparate you to St. Mungo's. What do you want me to write."

Hermione set down a scrapbook on the table before them. She flipped through pages of her childhood quickly, he noted that a blond boy with violet eyes was in many of the pictures, more so than her Hogwarts comrades. She finally got to the page she wanted. In the centre was a large square picture of a group of people gathered in field overlooking the Atlantic. In the lush green grass a fourteen-year-old Hermione laid on her stomach with a crown of yellow dandelions and a single white dandelion in her hand was being blown by a small boy, perhaps three or four years of age, with large brown eyes and an even larger smile sitting upon Hermione's back and rested his head on her shoulder. The blond girl from bulletin pictures smiled broadly with her arm about Hermione as she too, laid on the grass with a crown of young dandelions. Three fully grown women sat behind the dandelion decorated children. The woman in the centre was a small pale woman with white bush hair and twinkling hazel eyes, she smiled with an arm around two younger woman who resembled her greatly. These women were identical, with bushy masses of brown hair floating about their heads, large brown eyes and olive skin with pert noses and small shoulders. Kneeling behind the three women was a man visibly younger than the women (who looked to be about his age) with similar facial features and shaggy brown hair. Beside the woman on the right was a man with wind-tossed brown hair, fair skin and a crooked, challenging smile much like Hermione's.

"This is my momma's side of the family," Hermione explained pointing at the man to the right. "The man there is my father, his name is William.—" she paused and indicated she wanted him to write this down. He did. "Beside him is my mother, Siobhan...spelt—"

"Siobhan's not that difficult to figure out, Hermione."

"Alright," she said after seeing him write down her name correctly and continued. "The older lady is my grandmother Saoirse—"

He began writing it down when Hermione laughed.

"What?"

"Just remembering when I was helping teach Henry how to read," she smiled softly as she reminisced, she pointed at the little boy on her back in the picture. "That's my Henry there."

"_Your _Henry?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "I wasn't aware you were a mother?"

"You sound like my Aunt Colleen," Hermione scoffed rolling her eyes and pointed to the woman on the other side of her grandmother. "That's her by the way, she and Momma are twins, also Henry's mum. Anyway, it's spelt s-a-o-i—"

"Okay," he cut her off putting the pen down to look at her. "I'm either spelling that one phonetically or _I'll_ start calling her Nana."

. "Man named Severus shouldn't be allowed to say that." Hermione scoffed again. "Tell me, what was the most common misspelling and mispronunciation of your name?"

Severus let out a roar of a laugh at her question and quickly sobered as he looked her square in the eye. "This coming from the little girl whose name is longer than she is tall? Why don't you tell me the most common misspelling and mispronunciation of your name, _Hermione_?"

At this she rolled her eyes and pointed at the blond girl. "This is my sister Phoebe. Her fiancée's name is Mark, and my niece is Elizabeth. I don't have a picture yet. And the man kneeling behind Nana, Momma and Aunt Colleen is my uncle, Tom. " She then turned the page.

This picture was of another set of twins about twelve or thirteen, sitting together on a sandy beach with their backs to the sparkling sea and sunset. The sisters had long, wet black hair blowing behind them as they clung to one another laughing at eachother, though their faces were clearly seen in the picture, they were looking primarily at eachother and seemed unaware of the camera.

In the corner of that same page were a man and woman smiling and sitting together. The man was tall and bronze haired resembling Hermione's father, brown eyes sat behind glasses looking at his wife rather than the camera, he had an arm wrapped around his wife's waist. His wife smiled and her grey eyes looked up at him, though she did not turn her head, allowing the photographer to see her face in full, even though her black hair fell into it at places. She smiled affectionately at her husband as she held a book in her lap.

"The twins are Crystal and Jewel, if you can't tell them apart, don't refer to them by name. The couple are my uncle Jonathan and Aunt Dana."

"That's everyone who should be at Nana's."

Severus had everyone's names to the faces seen in the book. When he argued that simply calling everyone by their last names would avoid much confusion and possible offending of twins Hermione countered that there were four Miss Grangers, four Dr. Grangers, and two Dr. Hennesseys.

"Why are there so many doctors in your family?" Snape groaned.

Hermione suppressed a groan of her own when she closed her book. "I don't know," she sighed. "It just so happens my parents decided to become dentists at the same time in their schooling and my father's brother Jonathan who was a physician at the time met Dana who was interning at the hospital he worked at in the psychiatric ward. By this time Colleen jumps on the band wagan and applies to medical school to be a neurologist. And then simotaneously the youngest of my momma's family, Tom, decided 'oh! I want to be a music therapist!'"

"You sound very proud of your hard working relatives," he scoffed pouring another glass of what he discovered to be dandelion wine. Drinking in the presence of a student may not have been the most appropriate, but he needed to keep his hands busy. "I'd like to point out someone deciding to be a neurologist and following through with it isn't 'jumping on the band wagon'."

"I know," she slapped her forehead, feeling rather upset about what she said. "i just—" another sigh and she looked down at her fidgeting hands.

How petty was she to despise her relatives' choice of profession because of her condition? She hated herself for it, but it was true. Hermione spent so much time with doctors poking and prodding at her in hospitals only to come home to be put under an even more powerful magnifying glass. Even though none of them were onocologists, and only Jonathan was a doctor that dealt with the body, they all felt they knew everything about what she should do. Hermione often felt more like a patient than a daughter or niece.

"It's just?" Snape asked, sending Hermione back to the present.

Oh, how she loathed the man infront of her. He sat there and listened intently analysing her every word and tone. He came to her with a pretense of acceptance and understanding, but just like her family, he merely listened for indication of something wrong. He watched her, but he merely watched for weakness in her limbs and wavering. Hermione didn't know why everyone kept such a close eye on her to keep her safe when no one saw what they were trying to protect. There was no way around it, to people like Snape and her parents Hermione was her disease.

"The hair chewing, Hermione," he chided moving the strand she had unknowingly brought to her lips. "Now what were you saying?"

Hermione drew out another sigh as she hugged the scrapbook to her chest and looked down at the floor. She set it down in her lap and took the pitcher of wine and poured it into Snape's emptied cup when she saw hers was nearly full.

"What are you-?"

"Keeping my hands busy." She now walked it back to the fridge and topped of Crookshank's water. She picked him up and began pacing. "Anyway, it's just when you live with a bunch of doctors they all think they know what's best for you. What you think isn't important when they just _know_."

Snape sighed as he looked up at her, black eyes full of understanding. _Don't fall for it again, girl!_ When she began pacing once more he followed her with his eyes. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

She ignored his comment and put the cat on the floor. She dug the pitcher back out of the fridge and set it in the exact centre of the table. She moved to the sink with her glass and began washing her glass. She dried it, turned to the table, saw Snape's half-emptied glass and topped it off. She placed the pitcher back in its proper place, picked up her scrap book and resumed pacing, stopping only to fix the curtains. She looked at the blank wall where the old clock used to be. She wished desperately for something to stare at. She kept staring wishing the clock would materialize.

"Hermione?" he rose from his chair a little wobbly. She wondered if he himself was unwell. "Are you feeling alright?"

Hermione stopped her pacing to look at the confused man. "I'm fine, sir." She said and after a few seconds of standing still she began to pace once more. She had already answered his question, so why was she so uneasy?

_Because I'm out of my element...and so is he._

She felt hands clap on her shoulders as a form blocked her path. She looked up to see an exasperated Snape looking down at her with an expression she couldn't decipher. He stared into her for a while, trying to read her unease. He leaned in close to her as his hand slid up from her shoulder to her neck, he ran is thumb softly along the hallow of her neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice much smaller than she had wanted.

"Nothing!" he replied quickly with unease shaking his voice as he turned her to the table. "Sit down! You are making me dizzy and simply driving me mad with all that pacing!"

Hermione sat beside him and wondered why he had been acting so peculiar when she caught a glimpse of his again empty glass. She suppressed a groan and she began to take the note pad she had handed Snape earlier and tore off the sheet with her family members' name written on it. Scribbling on the notepad would prevent her from topping off his glass once again.

_Now, if only there was something for him to do with his hands..._ she thought as she saw him re-fill his glass, yet again.

"Other than use first names and don't mix up the twins," Snape began as he sipped his wine. "Is there anything I need to know?"

"Yeah, Gaelic!" Hermione laughed.

"Enough!" he hissed. "I know your mother speaks English, and even if she didn't, I still wouldn't be discouraged from coming, so you might as well stop it, little girl. There is nothing you can do or say that will keep me from going!"

"And why the hell isn't there?" she cried taking to her feet.

Snape followed suit taking to his feet in anger, his face was now flushed pink from both the anger palpable to even the most unobservant and the gallon of home-made wine running through his viens. His body now shook with anger as hers had done more times than she could count.

"Well?" she hissed as frustrated tears welled up in her eyes. "Why is there nothing I can do to keep you away from me?"

"Because I love you!"

Hermione stared blankly at the man staring at her angrily. Had he just said what she thought he said? He just stood before her still trembling with anger, face still red and his shaking hands grabbed at hers and placed them against his chest. She looked up at him and saw tears welling up in his eyes and his reddened face began to lighten and she noticed that he wasn't angry...he was desperate.

How could she have not seen it before? His erratic behaviour, his persistence, his newfound surliness toward Ron and anger toward the boy at the open-mic night, it all made sense now. He didn't follow her around because he wanted someone to depend on him, he did it because it was the only thing he could do to cope with feelings he couldn't bring himself to speak of.

Looking into his eyes, feeling his heart beating wildly against her now flattened palm, she knew he had come close to saying it before. That night he took her back to the castle and begged her to let him take care of her, several times at the hospital wing, and their very last encounter in the court yard, before McGonagall stumbled across them, he was a breath away from saying it twice. Snape had been in love with her all this time and she hadn't the slightest clue...

_Yes, you did!And you dragged the poor man's heart around because you were too scared to of how you felt!_ She scolded herself. She knew. She knew long before Luna pointed it out, and she knew she returned his feelings long before now. She knew she loved him for a long time. _But I still love Joshua...Could I honestly make him feel as though he's competing for my affections with a dead man?_

Dead, tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she remembered she herself was dying. When Joshua died Hermione was torn apart. Joshua haunted her, seeing his violet eyes watching her, seeing his from to realize it was just a boy with his body shape, waking up certain she heard his soft baritone voice humming every morning, she felt the colour drain from the world, and even though the heart beating in her chest wasn't hers, she still felt as though it were only half there. She couldn't do that to him. Hermione decided it was better to let him down easy now than to make him suffer watching the one he loved die. He would get over her, there were better women for him, self-sufficient, healthy ones with life-time guarentees.

"You love me too," he continued, his face was now deathly pale and tears unabashedly formed rivers on his cheeks. "You keep trying to push me away, but I know it. "

Hermione mustered up everything she could to lie to him. It killed her to hurt him more. Once upon a time, all she wanted to do was help him and break through the walls he so carefully began building long before she had met him. Breaking that dam to help him wasn't her only motive, she saw a bit of herself in that guarded man who was doing the same thing she was. Letting someone who loved him in only in time to shove her back out just as their finger tips touched. After finally letting down all his carefully built barriers willingly, would her refusal devastate him? _Not as much as your death will if you go through with this!_ She reminded herself.

Hermione drew in a deep breath and gently slid her hands out of his. "You're drunk," she spoke in a broken voice that was barely above a whisper lacking all the power she had intended to give it. "And you're scaring me."

"Hermione," he began speaking each syllable growing more quiet as he watched her dump the wine in the sink. "You know—"

"I know you need to sleep," she cut him off noticing her voice gaining more volume, but less confidence.

"I'm not going anywhere," he cried clapping his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. The pain in his melancholy contorted face and tear filled eyes nearly made Hermione crumple then and there. "Not until you admit you love me."

"I—I can—" she began but was cut off by Snape wrapping his arms around her and pressing his hot, tear soaked lips against hers.

She nearly melted into his embrace again, but stopped herself and began pushing weakly at his shoulders. He lifted his face from hers only to begin kissing up and down the side of her neck. "I know you feel it too," he whispered desperately between kisses. "What do I have to do to make you realize that?"

"Stop it!" Hermione shrieked finding her voice.

"Oh, God," he whispered as he sprang back, eyes wide in horror as he realized what he was doing.

Hermione's eyes couldn't stay still, she scanned the kitchen that she had so many childhood memories in, could nothing stay the same. Her eyes found the scrap book she had dropped when Snape took her hands. It lay forgotten on floor dropped open to a page she knew too well. A pair of loving violet eyes stared up her making every fibre of her body quiver in self-loathing and grief. He should have been looking at her with disappointment and disgust. Hermione now sobbed uncontrollably.

"H—"

"YOU CAN'T LOVE ME BECAUSE I'M SICK!" she cried as she ran out of the house.


	24. Returned to me

Why didn't he stop her from running? It was half past midnight and at some point in the night the wind and rain picked up enough to be heard from where he stood in the kitchen. He looked out the window to see the blurred backyard, rain hammered against the window and made him feel as though he were looking through a waterfall.

"She's going to catch her death out there," he muttered to himself putting on his jacket.

He made his way to the front door, his condition still evident in his stride. It had only been two weeks ago he swore he would never drink again and he blamed her. He couldn't believe she just ran off like that leaving him to seek her out in that dreadful weather after he had confessed his feelings for her. The outburst and running off was only sprinkling salt on to his bleeding heart. If he were smart he would just sit and wait for her inevitable return, but instead he was going to seek her out and drag her back. Once he'd dragged her back he would give that awful girl a peice of his mind...

_You scared her off!_ He scolded himself remembering had he not _molested_ her she probably wouldn't have run off.

A thunderous crash sounded as the blackest of night skies suddenly lit up like the first of July sobering him. Torrents of water carried by a harsh gust pounded against him as he ran down the walk way. The rain had already soaked him and stung his face as he looked both directions down the side walk seeing no sign of her.

"HERMIONE!" he called at the top of his lungs but barely hearing it himself above the howl of the wind ringing in his ears. He had thought the wind might have carried his voice and allow it to echo through the night, but the weather wasn't looking to help either of them.

He had no idea which way she went, and blindly charging down the street would do neither one of them any good. He pulled out his wand and stepped out into the street. From what he could tell, there was not a soul that dared venture out of their house. The weather wasn't only nasty, but it was dangerous and Hermione ran from the house without so much as a coat.

He quickly muttered a few words and prayed he would see it through the rivers forming on the ground. He felt there was at least a glimmer of hope when a set of small foot prints shimmered a pale blue. He ran the direction they lead hoping he would make it to her in time.

It felt as though was running for an eternity as his breathing grew laboured and rain stung his open mouth and nostrils as he tried to keep his rain-assaulted eyes on the foot prints and he shouted at the top of his lungs. His desperate calls were only answered by the rain and wind.

Would she be okay? What if something blew from a tree or roof and fell on her? What if she ran so hard she passed out face down and drown? What if she was struck by lightning? His mind raced with every step he took and with every call or plea that failed to be answered by anything other than the wind. With each desperate cry the scenarios painted in his head grew worse and worse. Eventually he had to ask himself what if a death-eater knew where the two were and took the opportunity to kill her then and there?

"HER-MI-ON-EEEE!" he cried again growing more frantic.

He finally found her at the end of the street lying like a forgotten drowned rat on the pavement in a puddle. Her eyes were closed and she didn't move a muscle. "No! Hermione!" he cried falling to his knees beside her. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

He was so relieved he had found her he just sat there holding her forgetting the weather that had endangered her in the first place. Lightning reversing the colour of the sky reminded him that they were not safe there and he apparated them back to the house.

He laid the soaked girl on her bed and laid down beside her. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear and looked at her too relieved to be angry. But then too horrified to be angry.

Hermione showed no signs of breathing! Her chest lay as still as the rest of her, her mouth was closed and there was no subtle movement indicating either her mouth or nose were taking in air. She laid perfectly still as if frozen in time. He touched her cheek to realize it wasn't only cold to the touch, but it was like ice.

"HERMIONE!" he screamed as tears found his eyes once more as he sat up and took her in his arms. "Come on, sweetheart!" he cried opening her mouth and setting his on it. "Don't do this to me! Come on, breathe for me!"

He performed CPR for the better part of an hour, screaming at her frantically to wake up when he wasn't trying to breathe for her. On one compression her heard the slightest crack and he stopped. "Oh, God!" he cried.

What'd he just do, what did he break? He couldn't remember, was he supposed to go on after breaking a rib? Was it likely for ribs to break? What if it punctured her lung? Did it matter when neither were working?

He wasn't giving up on her. He leaned over her and placed his hands in the centre on her chest and began to administer compressions once more. "I'm not letting you go. Breathe, damn it!"

Severus wept inconsolably as he prayed she would open her eyes. "Hermione...please," he begged. "I love you."

Nothing came from her but silence. Hermione looked like a porcelain doll, her flesh drained of what little colour it normally possessed to a nearly snow white and she was unnaturally still. Her eyes were closed gently as if she were merely sleeping, but she lacked the peaceful rise and fall of her breasts and the light noses that he was only acutely aware of brought on by her typically soft breathing.

What he'd have given just to see her open her eyes, even if only to look upon him with disdain, he didn't care, as long as they were open! If she could never return his feelings he didn't care. She could hate him and he wouldn't give a damn, he just wanted her breathing. He struck bargains silent and aloud with every form of god and devil he knew, but none seemed to be willing to breathe air into her body and allow her to live.

"Oh, Hermione!" he cried as exhaustion took over and he collapsed at her side. "I'm so sorry." He whispered and wished he'd had only said it more.

Severus felt death shatter his heart once more as he watched the too-still Hermione laying beside him. He thought once Lily chose James over him he would never know a more deep pain, of course he had been proven wrong when his world crumbled beneath him when he received news of her death. The world grew dark and his heart iced over, so sure he would never be able to feel the spark of joy love could give him. The devastation destroyed him, and though he loved Hermione, he never moved on from Lily. He would always love her and never imagined he'd ever be through another experience as painful as surviving her. But then Hermione, this little girl who he never imagined he'd like let alone love, came waltzing into his life and broke through the ice around his heart. It wasn't losing Lily all over again, though. This was by far worse... he knew it was his fault she died.

He held Hermione as he cried himself to sleep.

_Hermione stands alone in her bedroom looking over her list, ripping it as she cries._

"_Hermione!" Severus cried happily as he threw his arms around her. "You're alive!"_

_There she was, standing infront of him, in his arms. She was alive. He felt the scattered pieces of his heart relocated themselves and come together. _

"_No, I'm not!" she hisses throwing the piecing of her list at him._

"_But –"_

"_Look!" she points at the bed he had just gotten up from._

_Sure enough, there she lay. The lifeless body of Hermione Granger, just as he'd left her, soaked to the bone,cold and broken. Horror grips his mind as he stares at her body in disbelief. He turns back to Hermione who has angry tears. "Hermione, I—"_

"_It's your fault!" she shrieks, her words doing to his heart what her hands had done to her list, ripping it into fine peices and throwing them back at him._

"_Hermione, please!" he begs. "I didn't know! I wish I stopped you when you ran off, but it all happened so fast!"_

"_Tell me, Severus," says a voice he knows too well. He turned to face a woman on the bed beside Hermione's body. _

_It's Lily. Everything was in place, her ivory skin, long red hair, her posture, and of course her green eyes as he remembers them best. Angry. But her lips formed a cruel and sarcastic smile that he had never seen before. "Why couldn't you stop her?"_

"_I—" he chokes as tears well up in his eyes._

_Hermione speaks from behind him, he turns to see her still crying. "Don't tell me you're crying! You killed me."_

"_I'm sorry, Hermione!" he cries. "I didn't want this to happen to you. I love you!"_

"_I'm aware!" she hisses throwing her head back in bitter laughter. "That was the problem, remember?"_

"_I still want to know why you couldn't stop her from running off." Lily approaches. "You were plenty strong enough to keep her in one place when you were _molesting _her! Need I remind you that's why she ran off?"_

"_Lily, please..."_

"_Oh," she smiles cruelly, the two of them are now circling Severus. "Did you hear that, dear? He said please."_

"_Oh, I heard it," Hermione replies to Lily but directs her comment at Severus._

"_Before you were born he didn't think he should say please to people like us!" Lily cackles. " 'Mudblood' he called me when I chose James over him. He thinks of us as lower. That's why he almost took you without so much as asking. Didn't think he needed the permission of a filthy little mudblood!"_

"_No! That's not true!" he cried looking back and forth from the loves of his life while they circle her. "Lily! Hermione!" he drops to his knees._

"_Did you honestly think I could love someone like you?" Hermione giggles bending down to look him in the eye. "You're pathetic, Severus."_

"_Hermione!"_

Severus awoke clutching his chest feeling as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He looked over to see Hermione was gone! His heart skipped a beat as he jumped off the bed. She was alive! His heart fluttered lightly and the room grew lighter. He almost felt a spring in his step as he walked out of the room to run to her and apologize for everything.

His happy thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing coming from the bathroom.

"Hermione!" he yelled running to the door and not thinking before he opened the bathroom.

He found her on the floor with her knees to her chest as her face rested on them while she wept. She was naked and wet, she shook with each racking sob on the cold floor. When she had fell she knocked over the shower curtain and a bottle of pills laid near her as tiny white pills scattered over the floor.

Hermione sat admist the mess, naked in an upright fetal position, crumpled by some unseen force leaving her broken on the floor. Normally, Hermione might have tried to clean the mess, making sure things were just as they were before. But now she was so consumed by her sorrow she didn't even try to cover her exposed body from him.

"Oh, Hermione," he said at the door deciding whether he was elated or heart broken. "I'm an idiot."

She looked up at him with her tear stained face. Her beautiful brown eyes pulled him closer to her as they pleaded for comfort. He sat down beside her and draped a towel that was on the floor over her shoulders. He tried to restrain himself, but seeing her breathing proved too overwhelming. Tears of joy streamed from his eyes as he wrapped her in his arms.

"You're alive!" he cried. "Oh, I was so scared. I'm so sorry!"

Hermione simply continued to weep as her face managed to burry itself in her knees once more. He let go as he remembered why she ran off in the first place. He moved far enough away he knew he was giving her ample space but that he was close enough to not feel as though he wasn't abandoning her while she was so distraught. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I was an idiot."

"You're not the one who ran out in the storm," she tried to laugh.

"No," he agreed. "I only drove you to it. Hermione, I—"

"It's not you!" Hermione sobbed.

"Then what is it?" he asked patiently, leaning closer.

Hermione looked into his eyes and took a deep breath, she still shook. She tried to speak, but only the odd squeak was managed. Finally she managed to form the words and her gaze did not waver. "I love you too... But there is something I think I need to tell you."


	25. Hermione's Tale

Hermione sat on her bed wrapped in a towel, her face still deathly pale as her hand gingerly floated over one of the picture frames still sitting on her night stand. Severus sat on the bed opposite her and saw a million emotions register in her drained face. A weak smile graced her bloodless lips for a fraction of a second as she looked at the picture and a fresh onslaught of tears filled her murky brown eyes. The smile faded to nothing and her bottom lip retreated into her mouth and her chin quivered slightly. Her eyebrows knit and her posture became rigid only for her to release her lip (which now was bleeding ) relax her eyebrows and her posture deflated as her eyes fluttered shut not blocking the tears from spilling onto her cheeks in gentle narrow streams. She clasped the frame to her chest tightly.

"Hermione?" he asked now moving beside her. He gently moved the dripping veil of dark hair that prevented him from seeing her face.

Hermione sighed and moved closer to him. He reacted by wrapping an arm around her closing what space might have been between them. She accepted his embrace and lowered the picture she clasped to her chest.

In the golden frame there was a picture of a very thin, fair boy sitting among the daffodils planted in a magnificent garden. The boy had blond hair that was nearly white, and his face was as white as Hermione's, a brightly coloured daffodil held in a slightly bony hand washed him out further. Despite his bony hand and lack of pigment, his face was more fleshed out, blood allowed some slight colour to grace his cheeks and lips as he beamed brightly at the camera holder (who he correctly assumed to be Hermione). The boy's eyes were a deep violet that even he found breath-taking that sparkled at the photographer. Those intense eyes were wiser than his boyish face would indicate, but they gleamed with the glow only love could light.

"This is Joshua..." Hermione managed.

_So this is you, Joshua,_ he commented mentally, noticing he looked nothing like any of the infinite images that have been running through his head since Hermione accidently called him by her lover's name. He was so fair, his cheekbones too pronounced, and he was so slight.

_Stop picking the poor boy apart. _ He scolded himself feeling ashamed of picking up on flaws he knew were subtle and only noticeable under close scrutiny. He was trying to find some fault with the boy. _You're twenty-two years older than the boy, exercise some maturity._

That's when he saw something in Joshua's eyes other than happiness and love. There was an air of understanding and pain that lent him to looking wise and he was too thin. Joshua was beyond fair and slight, he was...

_Sickly._

* * *

><p>"Joshua and I met when we were twelve at a camp for sick kids in Ireland that my Nana recommended they send me to." Hermione told him not taking her eyes from the picture. "I met him through his twin sister, Violet. Violet was my best friend. She and I shared everything, though I held out the fact I was a witch and she neglected to mention she was trying to set me up with her brother. Though Joshua and I had always been close, we didn't actually see merit in what she wanted until December last year."<p>

Severus saw tiny droplets of water hit the glass cover the sacred picture her hands gripped like a life-line. He tightened the circle of his arms about her and very lightly skimmed her temple with his lips hoping the affection would serve as some sort of comfort.

"I remember it all so well..." she began, gaze still glued to the picture. "Snow drifted gently to the ground, giving the moonless, starless night a sparkle. An unscathed blanket of snow covered the streets before me. The streets were empty and I had been waiting for my parents to arrive in the frozen night alone at three AM with only the light of the street lamps.

"I wasn't as alone as I thought, my attention was turned to a tall and slight silhouette of a man just beyond the pool of light from the street lamp across the street. The silhouette was motionless, but he was facing in my direction. I felt his eyes upon me even though they weren't visible. Pulling my scarf up around my face I set my mind to things other than him.

"Phoebe would be spending Christmas in Canada, and yet my parents thought it was a good idea to go to Sweden for a ski-trip. It would be the first Christmas spent without my sister that I didn't have Harry and Ron to distract me. My thoughts quickly turned to two other friends I wouldn't be seeing. Violet and Joshua were both able to go home for Christmas. It would be their first Christmas in two years they would both be home. Being separated from my own sister was forgotten as I imagined the two bickering about silly things like where to place the ordnaments on the tree and whether to leave the lights on over night, arguments my own sister and I had when my illness didn't rear its ugly head.

"Happy thoughts of Joshua and Violet were quickly stolen as I saw the silhouette of the man approaching me. My breathing quickened and my heart thudded in my chest, screaming at me that it couldn't beat much faster without harming me. I felt my body stiffen in caution, though I knew he could just be approaching to ask a question, my fingertips hovered over the handle of my wand. I was ready for an attack.

" 'Daffodil?' the man said giving away his identity before he stepped into the light, revealing his boyish face.

'Joshua!' I cried happily throwing my arms around him. 'You scared me, you dolt!'

'Comeon, Hermione,' he laughed holding my gaze with his. Those violet eyes were so intense, so beautiful.

I hadn't paid much attention to his appearance before then. He was tall and slight, though treatments left him too thin, and his would be fair anyway skin was an unhealthy bloodless colour and his hair had fallen out from the medication so many times, it now grew back white, which was now long enough to stick out of his tuke slightly and the only pigment he seemed to have were in the deep violet of his irises.

That was when I realized despite the clues we both constantly looked for in each other, I thought Joshua was a beautiful boy. Everything about Joshua was beautiful. His beaming smile that made us all forget how sick he was, the sparkle in his violet eyes that could light up a funeral parlour. His voice had recently settled on what it changed to, and his laughter was the sweetest melody I had ever heard. Joshua was a gentle man, he loved everyone and everything. He was never bitter about his illness, and he never gave up hope. Joshua had quickly become my life line after we met. Sometimes, I can still see his eyes, still hear his laughter ringing through the cob-webbed halls of my mind.

'What are you doing here, Joshua?' I asked with smile that conveyed too much.

'Didn't you get my letter?' he gave me a crooked smile as he pulled me in closer to him. "I believe I closed it with 'I can't wait to see you.'

'I thought you were talking about summer!'

He simply rolled his eyes and tapped my nose with his frozen finger. 'Nope. Good God, girl! You're frozen!'

'I don't imagine you're much better. Why are you out here in this weather?'

There was a mischievious sparkle that crossed his eyes as that smile found his face again as he answered slyly with: 'Taking you out of it.'

He lowered his face slightly and his violet eyes bore into mine hypnotically. I felt jittery and uneasy under his gaze, I didn't recognize why my stomach churned in knots as he looked at me nor the rush of excitement causing my heart to flutter. But I was very much aware he wasn't the little boy I met when we were twelve.

He let go of me only to gently clasp his hand around mine and led me down the street. We spoke of pointless things, exchanging anything that could lead to laughs that shrouded the truth. Joshua and I became experts in hiding from the truth as the years passed. It was as if the distractions were warm woolen blankets we pulled around ourselves to shield us from the bitter cold of reality. We learned early on to laugh away the truth.

But then we stopped and Joshua turned to look at me. His lips were pressed together and his brow furrowed as his eyes stared through me. There was a sincerity in his face that cut through my soul like the sharpest dagger. I attempted to quell my squirming when he asked that dreaded question, bringing the reality of our conditions crashing down on me putting an end to the care free moment.

'How are you...really?'

It was that instant, walking down the street hand-in-hand I recognized the feelings I felt when we embraced under the lamp light. I knew him so intimately, as he did me, that we could see through every barricade and battlement constructed around us. There's a great deal of trust, as you probably already know, needed to be able to be around that one person who sees the real you. Joshua and I both only ever wanted to hide, it made more sense for us to run away as fast as we could in opposite directions, but instead we ran to eachother. We were beacons of light in a long, dark and cold tunnel that every sick person seemed to go through. Joshua had always been my peice of heaven in the icy bowels of hell. And I knew, looking into those eyes, so concerned, I had loved him with all my heart, and I was horrified.

'You know we don't talk about that, Joshua,' I tore my eyes away from his, fighting back tears and ripping my hand from his.

I watched as our feet christened the sparkling blanket of snow, trying to focus on anything that wasn't him. He took my hand back and kept my slowed pace. I could tell in his touch that my feelings weren't unrequited and the fact that I had hurt him was punctuated by our silence.

It killed me, but I knew he was healthier. That was so wonderful and I wouldn't—I couldn't drag that down with my own deteriorating condition. That's why I pulled his hand away from him. He was getting better and I was getting worse. The doctors all said I didn't have much time, and I thought Joshua had all the time in the world. I was sure he would outlive me by a lifetime and I was afraid that if we got together he would feel abandoned when I died in less than a year later.

I wasn't going to do that to anyone, especially him. If everyone was happier with my being healthy it was easy to pretend I was and avoid getting too involved in everyone's lives. So it was easier when I..."

* * *

><p>Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. She wasn't going to finish that sentence.<p>

Severus wanted to object, to say something to ease her mind and say that two people who loved eachother should be together no matter what difference there may be in life spans. Most importantly, he wanted to tell her she wasn't dying. But he knew better, so he let her continue.

* * *

><p>Hermione now gathered her composure, her eyes dried and she breathed deeply. "Joshua broke me from my stupor as we reached his car by calling my name.<p>

'I miss you, Hermione,' he told me in a hushed voice that was trying not to break.

'I missed you too, Joshua,' I replied feeling brave enough to look into his eyes.

He looked at me as though I were the only thing on the planet. He closed his eyes and shook his head as his posture deflated from disappointment. A defeated sigh escaped his frozen lips.

'What?' I asked feeling my body freeze over not from the cold, but from knowing what I missed.

'No, Hermione, I said I _miss_ you," he cradled my head in his hands as he stared through my transparent disguise. 'You've been distant since I met up with you. What aren't you telling me?'

The truth bubbled at my lips and I swallowed the words, choking on my feelings and those three words I came to realize I had been putting off for years. My mind slipped into how out of place I had always felt with Viktor, and how I had never felt quite right with him. I knew it wasn't just my illness, it was because I was in love with Joshua.

'You know you can tell me anything, Hermione,' he told me pressing his forehead to mine. 'This isn't like you to keep secrets...'

'Then why do I feel like that's all we ever do?' I didn't know if I was asking him or myself...perhaps I was asking us both.

'I don't know,' he sighed. 'but I do know I head seeing you walking around like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. I thought I had been helping you with the load all this time.'

That was it. Those words and the ring of betrayl in his voice gripped around my heart like an icy vice, each word tightening it, and the disappointed expression on his face seemed to cut into the very fabric of my being. I knew it then and there, there was nothing I could keep from him-nothing I _wanted_ to keep from him.

'I-I' I choked, still not knowing what to say. Finally, the truth broke through my lips in a barely audible whisper. 'I love you.'

'I didn't quite get that...' he hesitated.

'I'm scared,' I admitted. ' I don't want ...I can't...Are you, I mean—' I was so terrified to come clean, my brain couldn't even form sentences, yet I remember every sentence I wanted to finish in that mess. I remember the snow clinging to Joshua's eyes lashes, the warmth of his embrace the—I'm just running away on a tangent now!

'I'm afraid of leaving.' It finally managed after what felt like years of fumbling for words. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and prayed it he would think it was the snow melting on my skin. 'There's so much I've never done, and so many people I'm afraid to be without. I don't want to leave anyone, I don't want to be remembered as just some pity case, another sick little girl. And despite everything Dr. Chance says, I'm not, but I feel like I'm going to be abandoning everyone.'

Joshua looked at me with his eyes wide and he backed away from me as he gasped. Tears began to pool his eyes as he looked at me, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Hermione, what are you talking about?'

'I'm dying.' I whispered, but it felt as though it was as loud as a bomb. I might as well have run him through the heart with a diamond dagger and twisted it once it was embedded in his bleeding heart. I debated if it would have been better if I didn't tell him. Maybe I should have told him I love him and we could have spent a happy year together, ignoring our illnesses and living blissfully until eventually the reality of our illnesses came crashing down and one of us had to part. That's what we were doing before...

'No!' he cried. 'It's not true. Hermione, you're in remission, it's been dormant for months now! This is impossible!'

I choked again. I was having trouble finding words as he gripped my arms, holding me at arms length as he examined my face, violet eyes on the brink of brimming over as I imagine he searched for signs I'd been mislead, signs I was healthy.

'Please...Joshua, please don't make this harder than it already is,' I couldn't raise my breaking voice above a whisper and my own eyes brimmed over as i felt the weight of my confession crash down upon us. 'You're sick too, Joshua, you know how this works.'

Joshua then drew me into him, clinging to me as though his grip would deter death's. 'I can't lose you, Hermione. I won't! You never once gave up on me, I am not about to do any less!'

I returned his embrace as I wept. 'I love you!' I admitted loud enough for him to hear. 'But I can't—My time is coming, and I don't want—I can't abandon you! I'm scared of not being with you.'

That was when he backed away, I felt like the dagger my words formed was now in my heart, twisting and tearing until it had been shredded from the inside out. He stared at me for what felt like an eternity, I wasn't sure if I froze more from his gaze or the weather. That's when Joshua leaned in closer to me, he pressed his lips against mine so gently i felt my knees begin to buckle.

I felt the world stop spinning and the troubles of the world fade away. All of a sudden, I didn't care that my only hope for survival come the next year was a transplant, or that he was struggling with his illness. I didn't care about my shortened life span or the war waging on. All there was in the world were him and me, outside of that, nothing seemed to matter.

'If you're afraid of being without me,' he said parting his lips from mine. 'Then why not be with me while you can?'

I just laughed at this as I began to think he was right, that the best thing for both of us was to spend what time we had left together. And that's what we planned. I had toyed with the idea of quitting school, but pretending there was a future was important, and I couldn't abandon Harry and Ron...Or perhaps it was just my own selfish need to do something worthwhile before I died...

My parents lied to me, allowing for the amazing surprise of being with everyone before I had to go back. Joshua had been there to pick me up to take us to the airport. Joshua, Violet and his mum Abigail would be spending Christmas with us in St. John's Newfoundland with Phoebe and Mark. It was lovely and we all couldn't have been happier to have spent it together.

It was four AM and I couldn't sleep. I played with the lights on the tree that stood on the coffee table in the hotel room Violet and I shared. In five hours we would be making the drive to St. Margarets Bay to spend Christmas day with Nana. Till then I just watched as the technicolour lights on the tree flickered.

In the dead silence a red bulb had burned brighter than all the others, over powering the others. I stared at it, the bulb blinked, once or twice, faded in intensity and then just faded out. I thought briefly of the super nova. A star shines brightest when it's about to blink out forever, burning with a beautiful intensity to be seen light years away. Perhaps it was a graceful way from them to burn out so we remember them forever.

Or maybe it was their last efforts to live. You know when someone's having death throes because they are giving everything they have to keep life within their grasp. They are fighting to live. Perhaps a super nova is just a star's death throe. Giving it all it had before it eventually blinked out of existence forever. Just like that light bulb.

I stared at that now dead light bulb as tears stung my eyes. I sat at the table and touched the bulb, it was still hot from its nova. The thought of the star entering its super nova because it knows it's about to fade away for eternity and just wants to be remembered well by those it leaves behind is a romantic and poetic thought, but I knew the truth. It was clinging on to existence until it couldn't muster enough strength to keep its grip. And very soon I would be that bulb—that I would enter my own super nova.

That I would die. Why am I so afraid of saying that? Everybody does it and before I was sick I knew I was no exception—"

* * *

><p>"Because before you were sick you thought you had all the time in the world," Severus sighed hating the words that left her as much as she did. He didn't want to hear them, but nonetheless, he sat therelistening to her, doing the very same thing she had claimed Joshua did. Holding her so tightly he hoped death couldn't take her from him. A foolish thought, but it was all he could do. That or helplessly watch her illness consume her. "Now that the odds are stacked against you, you don't. And you're wrong."<p>

Hermione shook her head lightly, eyes still fixed on her Joshua. "You don't believe that either. Even if you want to, you know that my days are numbered."

Severus hated her for her words. At least, he wanted to. But he only felt a pang as he rested his chin on her shoulder and searched for words of comfort for the girl. He wondered what comfort the boy in the picture had offered. Had he helped her cope? Or perhaps given her hope that there was a future? A future that she could exist in?

He wondered where Joshua was now. He knew the pain and isolation of being sick, and from her story he was involved with her for a while. So, why did he leave this poor girl to feel so lonely that she was looking for affection from a drunkard or a man over twice her age? How could the boy have promised her hope and walk away from her? It didn't matter, if Joshua had done any damage that her situation hadn't he would try and help her.

He listened eagerly, selfishly, hoping he could be justified in hating Joshua.

Hermione continued, now sounding distant.

* * *

><p>"I heard a knocking on the door, it was so light, I almost didn't hear it. I wondered who could be calling on me so late, a breif panic took over. I didn't even know what I was panicking about! First it was a death eater trap, but I shook it from my mind as soon as it entered. Then it was an accident, my heart began pounding. Then, what I didn't want to cross my mind did. What if something happened to Joshua! He'd been so healthy, but what if his brain tumour became agressive again? Cancer had a funny way of waking up when you least wanted it to. Of coming back when you thought the eviction was permanent.<p>

With that last thought rushing in my head, my heart began to flutter as I sprang to my feet, I ignored my dizzy spell as I opened the door with shaking hands in anticipation of the horrendous news.

'Hi, Hermione,'

I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I saw Joshua, alive and well, standing in the doorway, leaning as he smiled crookedly. He wore his jacket and hat, telling me he had intended to go outside. An excited and playful light crossed his eyes as he seemed to stare into me, sending shivers up and down my spine. But his smile faded as solemness robbed his violet eyes of their loving playfulness.

'Have you been crying?"

'It's nothing,' I lied, I had gotten so used to lying. I shrugged and tried to forget. 'What're you doing here?'

'Walk with me?' he asked pressing his smiling lips gently against mine.

'Joshua,' I laughed. 'It's four o'clock in the morning!'

'So we can be alone,' he grinned from ear to ear, wrapping his arms around my waist as he raised his eyebrows suggestivley at me.

I nearly roared with laughter there. 'It'll shrink to nothing in this weather!'

He kissed me again and refrained from laughing himself. 'Why, Hermione! I just wanted a romantic stroll in the park. How unlady-like of you!'

'Where?' I asked slipping on my coat and shoes.

'We're like a five minute walk from Pippy's walking trails.'

We walked down the snowy trails in the bitter cold. We were the only ones in the park, I knew the cold had scared most the night owls into there well-heated holes. I could see Joshua's words leave his lips in the form of swirling grey fog, like my own. I felt the cold cut through me like a knife, chilling me to the bone. I wasn't aware of my fingers toes or ears anymore, as they were too numb to be acknowlegd. I couldn't help but stare at Joshua and pray the cold didn't make him worse.

Snow spakled in the moonlight, off the branches of the barren trees. I saw it refract off the jagged surfaces of the cliff we stood and create a shimmering trail on the rolling Atlantic. The black waters lapped at the frosted rocks below, and the starspangled night sky blended with the ocean, as the waves tried to reach the diamonds twinkling above. It was so beautiful, and the only sounds were the beating of our hearts and the lapping of the sea.

Tears sprung from my eyes at the beauty, I had never seen anything like it, and I knew that only Joshua and I were in privleged to the scene. We stood in the moon's unblinking eyes as we watched the ocean strive for the stars. The twinkling made me think of the bulb, the dying stars. The enevitable super nova. I remembered, I was dying.

I fell to me knees and began sobbing, forgetting my company. I knew, I didn't want to die. I wanted to cling to my life and finish everything on that stupid list I wrote so long ago. I wanted to stop time, to stand before this scene before my realization and just feel Joshua's arms about me. I would have made a deal with the devil to stop the enevitable sunrise.

That's when Joshua knelt before me.

He leaned his forehead against mine and clasped his hands around the back of my neck. 'It's alright, It's-'

'I wish I had more time,' I whispered. 'Oh, Joshua, this is so lovely, but I just-'

'Look up, baby,' he whispered in my ear before kissing just below it.

I did, but the breath-taking beauty of before couldn't be restored. I knew that the stars I was looking at were just light emitting from stars that had faded away into nothingness centuries ago. I knew the moon was just a rock refracting the sun's harsh and cancer inducing light, I knew the ocean was an uncontrollable force that took away as much life as it held, and that the blaket of sparkling snow we sat in was nothing more than a protective and hydrating blanket mother earth clung to like a child afraid of the cold that only we dared venture into.

'The stars we see now died centuries ago,' he began, folding me into his embrace as he saw his words bring more tears. 'The light from them reaches us only because we're so far away. But in space, where we see a star from earth, there's potentially just a black hole, a void created after the star shone for eons, and eventually just burned out. But long after their deaths, their light have helped sailors find their way when lost at sea, inspired composers and painters, and still, to this days, people make wishes on these long dead stars and every now and then-' he pulled something out of his pocket. 'They come true.'

That did it. That brought me to smile through the tears, and turn to look at him. Stars swirled and glittered in his violet, his pale face shone like the moon and his lips formed a faint, sincere smile as he pulled my left hand out of my pocket and I felt him slip something onto my finger. 'Johua?' I squeaked, not able to speak.

'I'm hoping they'll grant me this one,' he said softly. 'Hermione, I know we're not going to live for a very long time, but nothing would make me happier than to spend the last of my days with you.'

'But, Joshua,' I gasped. 'You've been so healthy... and I-I'll be lucky if I see next Christmas.'

He kissed me again, more fervently than I had been used to and parted, tears now pooled in this eyes. 'Hermione, Idon't care if you going to be with me for a forty years of a second. But I can promise you that you;ll see passed next Christmas. Marry me next Christmas and let me prove it to you.'

I hesisitated, I felt his violet eyes bore into mine, i felt his heart beat against my chest and saw the grey fog escape from his lips as he waited my reply. All he wanted was love and hope, and love I could give him, but hope was a beast of a different kind.

I wanted to live, and I knew, looking into Joshua's eyes, I wanted to live with him.

'Yes,' I barely managed."

* * *

><p>"Wait, you two are <em>engaged<em>?" Severus gasped not believing her tale. What the hell did she want with him if they were engaged? What the hell was she doing with that sleeze in the bar when her fiancee waited to for her back home? She didn't even wear his ring!

"_Were_ engaged...' Hermione sighed as more tears fell.

Severus felt his anger shift from Hermione back to Joshua. How could he have someone so wonderful as Hermione and walk away? How could he have given her such hope, how could he have given her something to cling to and just rip it away from her? Hermione didn't deserve that...

"I remember everything about him. The way his flaxen hair shone gold in the sunlight, the way light would play across his violet eyes revealing his emotions, his light laughter, the way he'd hum in the mornings as he read psalms from a book his mother gave him, the way his brow would furrow when he entered a hospital, the way he held me when I was on the brink of giving up, and how he seemed to have a spring in his step after I kissed him...I miss him. But I'm sure he's happier where he is."

Before Severus could say more about it, Hermione continued.

* * *

><p>"We couldn't have been happier. We were knee-deep in wedding plans for the rest of the year, and I was working out how to tell Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna about Joshua while being able to omit how we met. I had told about my life at Hogwarts, sparing no detail and he was going back to Secondary school. Life was...normal. There was a buzz of excitement and we were healthy.<p>

But that may, I got the most awful letter about Violet. Her tumour became more and more aggresive, it was too big for gamma ray surgery, and chemo wasn't doing the trick. She was hospitialized with three months left to live. I immediatley wrote back saying I could be there right away. Apparently, dropping everything to see her was not what she wanted. I respected that, knowing I felt the same when it was me. So I waited.

As soon as I met up with Momma and Dad at King's Crossing I begged to leave for Trinity Hospital immediatley. They agreed, driving to the ferry terminal as fast as the tires could carry us. The milling tourists and buissnessmen seemed to consume any air in the room, their faces blurred and their voices blended together, gurgling as if they were submerged deep under water.

I felt my heart pound violently against the wall of my chest and oxygen burned my lungs in urgency to leave the terminal as my surroundings blurred. The room, like my world, was spinning with my reeling mind.

Was this how Violet felt? Did every fibre of her being scream at her to leave the room as she clung to consciousness and life with what stregnth she could muster? Would she be wasting away in a hospital bed unable to keep track of what's going on around in the room because the drugs made her too loopy? Was Abigail holding her hand as tears found the eyes of even the most seasoned vetran mother? Did Joshua feel every molecule of his being being split in half as his twin sister lay dying?

When we left the terminal to board the ferry I felt Momma's arm wrap around my back and urge me to lean on her. She whispered something in my ear but I couldn't make it out above the drone of submerged tourists and buissnessmen.

We stood on a little corner of the deck not occupied by camera happy tourists, Dad watched helplessly as Momma rubbed my back trying to soothe me while I stood looking over the water, clinging to the hot metal rails while I fought my dizziness and nausea. Momma abandonned her attempts to comfort me and whispered questions to me over and over after I showed no sign of settling. Was I just sea sick? Was it my chest? Should she call Dr. Cavanaugh? Was I okay?

I was too busy asking questions of my own to answer any of hers. Was Violet okay? Was she hurting? Scared? Did she feel like she was alone? Was she ready? Was she really even dying? I had been given enough death sentences know doctors can be wrong...I hoped it was the case with Violet...

The hospital room was dead silent, only interupted by the beeping of the heart monitor and sorrowful weeping as a grey cast draped over us in the sterile room. Violet slept in her bed hooked up to so many god awful machines. Abigail clasped Violet's hand and leaned her head on Joshua's head, surrendering to despair.

The woman clinging to her daughter's hand and leaning on her son sobbing her eyes out was not Abigail Grey. This was not the woman who forced a smile on my parents' faces when they broke down. This wasn't the seasoned warrior that dealt with twins single-handedly who were diagnosed with cancer when they were two. Violet and Joshua were cut from the same cloth as her mother. Physically and mentally, they were exactly alike. They always found a smile and when my world was at its darkest they were a constant beacon of light. Without Abigail to insist they go to a coffee shop of a midnight coffee, or take a walk while we were sleeping or to encourage them to go home every so often, my parents would have been lost.

I knew by the way she wept so unconsolably, this was it. This was Violet's home stretch. I sat at Violet's feet and looked at the undeniable proof Abigail was right.

Violet's bare head was covered by a blue scarf, her tiny ears stuck out and were red and flaking. I could see her joints swell and stick out of her cold, white hand. Her skin barley covered her skeleton, nearly every bone was pronounced beneath her transluc-no _transparent_ skin. Blue veins that no longer delivered the corret amount of blood were also visible through her skin, her eyes lids were nearly gray, and i could see her eyes slowly move beneath them. Her chest barely moved and wheezes came out of her chapped and faded lips.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I clung to my mother for balance. I just wanted a nurse to come into the room and tell us we were all in the wrong room and that this emaciatated skeleton laying in the bed wasn't Violet but some other poor soul. That Violet was fine...

That wasn't going to happen. The girl lying in the bed was Violet and she was dying. I felt my chest tighten and my lungs constrict as the room, like the world, had spun out of control. My heart fluttered as I struggled for air. I gripped onto Momma's arm to keep on my feet and make sense of the spinning blurr before me. I felt the familiar weakness in my limbs and the painful vice tightening around my heart. I remember thinking, please, no, not here. I remember begging God to at least let me see her eyes flutter open and asure us she's not in pain.

But soon things went from blurry to black and I fainted.

Dr. Cavanaugh looked at the X-rays that he took of my heart that he'd taken a week later. He took off his reading glasses and I felt those ice-blue orbs communicate to me the words he searched for my parents and Joshua, who all clung to me like a lifeline.

He didn't need to say anything. The blue vein peaking on his temple, the light gone from his face and the resignation in his eyes poorly guarded by their drooping lids told all of us what he was afraid to. Lines on his brow wrestled as he wrestled internally. He stood quiet behind his desk for a few seconds, an onocologist's job is never easy. I wondered how many people he delivered the news to that day.

'I'm afraid you're too far along-' he began.

'Bullshit!' my mother screamed slamming her fist on the doctor's desk. 'My daughter is fifteen! I've had enough of this, you have told us Hermione's dying twice now, and here she is! Sitting right in front of you. You were wrong then, and you're wrong now! She's fine. And if you can't find something to do with her, I'm sure we can find someone else who will!'

'Siobhan,' he said calmly. 'I've been working on Hermione's case since she was diagnosed. Whether you want to believe me or not, I'm Hermione's best chance.'

'You just said she's too far along!' Momma cried pulling me close to her, nearly ripping me from Joshua's arms. 'How the hell can you be her best chance if you're willing to give her a death sentence?'

'There has to be _something_ you can do for her?' Joshua and Dad pleaded.

'There is something we can do, but the chances of...' he sighed and i felt the tension rob the very air from my lungs. 'Without a transplant Hermione will die.'

I felt the weight of his words pull the world down with greater force than I ever imagined anything could possess. Crushed beneath the gravity of his words, I tried to push out. I at least succeeded in that. I felt as though I was floating above the situation. I was only vaguely aware of my mother's tightening grip around me and Joshua taking my hand as my father looked from me to the doctor in disbelief. But I felt as though it was someone else he said was dying, an acquaintance I did not know well enough to mourn...

Then it hit me. Without a transplant I was going to die. I would never see Joshua at the alter, I'd never see my niece grow up to be the lovely woman I knew she would be and I was never going to see my sister again. The grey veil cast over the world that I had seen since my arrival at St. Luke's was lifted and all the colours grew in intensity, the wool on my mother's jumper felt softer and Joshua's hand clasped around mine re-developped details, a rough patch on his fingertips brushed the thin surface of the back of my hand while the rest of his hand served as a very soft, yet protective cover, I felt his body heat diffuse into my own flesh, then crawl up my arm and find its way to the rest of my body.

It was like some cruel joke! It was as if knowing I would never see or feel again made those senses better, sharper, something I wanted to relish in a while longer. It was so creul, and I—I just couldn't stand it. I had gone from being too numb to feeling too much. The vibrant colours, the feeling of the air entering and leaving my lungs, the warmth eminating from the bodies of those around me were too much. There was too much in that room that I wanted...that I needed to live for. That's when I knew...

I wanted to live!

But I wasn't going to. Tears blinded me as I tore from my mother's embrace and bolted from the room. I ran out of breath half way down the corridor I-I fell over and just before I blacked out, I heard my mother screaming 'Oh, God, is this it?'

Next thing I knew I was lying in a hospital bed hooked up to oxygen, a heart monitor and IV with Joshua laying beside me. He breathed lightly as a murmur escaped his lips, asking God to spare me, even if He can't Violet. That he already resigned to his sister dying and—and —that he couldn't bear to live without the both of us!

I looked over Joshua to see Abigail , Momma and Dad sleeping in chairs they'd pushed together between mine and Violet's beds. The curtains were open the slightest crack and I could see the world outside was dark. Violet was awake, staring at the ceiling, probably beseeching God and cursing the adults in the room for the ease with which they breathed. It's—it's hard for people like us to not be jealous.

Gripping the IV pole for support, I crept out of bed, taking care not to wake Joshua. I don't know why I didn't want to wake him, it might have eased him, if only a little to know I was alright, but I didn't even consider it. And I'll regret it always.

I walked over to Violet, who was looking rather confused, as if it was her first time being awake for a long time. She looked right at me, water filling her violet eyes and her bottom lip quivered as she sat, clutching her sheets in tight clentched fists up to her chest. She was too frail, her skin not only ashen, but drained, even the inside of her slightly opened mouth was grey rather than red, her bones were too pronounced. She was so fragile and small, walking as far as my oxygen leash would let me, I wonder how this ghost in was still alive at all. But I was overjoyed despite these horrific details because she was awake.

Joshua might have loved to see the both of us awake and coherent. All I had to do was nudge him, whisper, touch him, _something_ to wake him! Why the hell didn't I? The next time Viol—_Damn it! What the hell is wrong with me_?—I—I'm an awful person." She sighed and hung her head, nearly going limp as she was jarred from her own memory and back into the present.

It became quite obvious at this point to him that her friend Violet died. He wondered if that was the last time she was coherent. Hermione was racked with guilt for some reason, and he imagined that was it. Severus realized as Hermione's tale went on that he was being unfairly judgemental of the boy. Joshua seemed to have been there for her every step of the way. He wondered if he left her after the death of his sister. Or even if he blamed her for not waking him up to see the last time his sister was coherent before she died. It was understandable, even, but wasn't she feeling guilty enough without him adding to it?

He noticed her resigned posture stiffen as she bit her lip and her body shook with tiny sobs.

"Breathe," he spoke gently, soothing her back. "You're fine. You're fine."

"I know _I_ am," she sighed, resignation colouring her tone.

"Violet's eyes brimmed over as we hugged. I was almost afraid to hold her because she was so frail, I thought I might break her. I remember thinking I could feel her life force leaving her body, and I—I did nothing to stop it.

'I'm dying,' she whispered with a broken voice.

That was it. That confirmed what everyone had been saying for so long. I knew it was true, but I wanted it not to be. I wanted her to go off and do all the things she never got to. Violet Grey was hell-bent on making the world a better place. She didn't deserve to be sick...nobody does.

'I am too,' a barely managed.

We promised to stay with each other until we were at death's door and agreed to meet there after.

'Don't be afraid of being alone.' I remember saying. 'I'll be with you shortly, Violet.' I guess I lied.

We clung to eachother and cried as we gave way to our despair, knowing we would both be died before summer ended. Terrified of leaving everyone we ever knew, mourning eachother's loss, yet taking solace in the same thing, knowing we weren't alone.

The next two weeks happened so quickly that it was all a blur looking back, just one painful, earth shattering experience after another, yet, it all felt like an eternity. It was just this summer it all happened, but it feels—no scratch that—it _was_ a life time ago.

Momma and Dad gave in to my begging to let me go to talk to Dr. Cavanaugh alone, in retrospect, it might have been better for them to know what lie ahead than not. I thought they didn't need to hear about how I would deteriorate, how I would be in such intense pain or completely strung out, there was so much I didn't think they could hear. I don't know if I thought it would shatter them or if I just didn't want them to see my reactions—yeah, I thinkthat was it...

Joshua wasn't exactly convinced I should go it alone, so he went with me while Momma and Dad comforted Abigail. It was my first time back in his office since we were told that I was dying and nothing changed. The room was still harshly lit and pictures of some poor soul's brain tumor lie frozen in time on his desk. Even the air was stagnant.

'Dr. Cavanaugh,' I said weakly meeting his gaze.

There was an evident sadness in his eyes. Again I found myself wondering if his job ever got easier. I highly doubt it. Though as many people as he sees to the end, I have to remind myself that for everyone he sees die, there is another he whose life he saves.

'There is no heart.' Dr. Cavanaugh admitted, Joshua looked as if each word he said were a dagger plunged into him. 'You're on a waiting list, Hermione, but there's no way for a heart to come in time. I'm sorry.'

I inhaled deeply, taking in what little shock hearing this aloud provided. I turned to Joshua, to see him biting his lip as tears filled his eyes. Colour drained and his eyes fixed to mine as he pulled me closer to him . his expression was a slap in the face telling me he wasn't ready. It was then I realized that I hadn't a tear to shed for myself. I had made peace with dying.

WE walked in silence to the gardens held outside and walked down the brightly coloured paths. Flowers were closing, shrinking into themselves and the emerald bushes swallowed the brightly coloured flowers. Over head stars spangled the navy sky. Joshua melted into my side, his arm pressing me into his. His silence was deffening and I struggled to find so much as an ounce of comfort on my breath.

'It's going to be alright,' I tried to assure him. 'I'll—'

'Be dead in a matter weeks,' he finished. 'Don't say things will be fine when they won't be. I don't want to lose you.'

'Look up,' I said remembering the night he proposed and pointing at the stars. 'Most of the stars you see are already dead. But you can still see them, and they will still help you find your way when you're lost and alone.'

That stopped him dead in his tracks. We stood in the middle of the walking path, staring at eachother, and I swear I saw a spark of light reignite in his eyes. For the first time since I was admitted he looked like he had hope. Little did I know it would be so short lived." Hermione trailed off once more, she took in a sharp breath and took to staring down shutting her eyes tightly. She shook her head lightly as she bit her lip again.

A silence passed and he heard her inhale deeply readying herself to continue. "V—V—" one more sharp breath and release of built up tears and she was once again in the past.

"Violet died the next day. It was afternoon, light seeped into the window through the gauzy curtains casting an eerie glow over Violet's white, sleeping body. It was exactly twoPM and I had spent the day watching her, a girl who once shared my insomnia fast asleep, with each passing hour she didn't open her eyes causing my heart to grow heavier.

'Violet,' Abigail sobbed at her bedside, Momma held her hand in assurance. It was a bitter sweet, much like it was for Violet and me, it was hell, knowing they would lose a child together served as some small comfort. Niether Abigail or my mother would be alone. There was at least some solace to find in that.

'Do you think she'll wake again?' Joshua asked staring hopefully at his twin.

'I don't know, Joshua,' Abigail answered her words coming between sobs.

'She has too,' I said with a shaky voice, I couldn't bare the idea of her life being taken from us without all of us having a chance to say good bye. 'I-It's just not right to have her slip away without a chance to say goodbye. Do you think it's true? That she doesn't feel any pain?'

'I don't think she feels anything, baby,' Joshua sighed I could see the pain in his face, he dissolved at the mere sight of her.

I remembered the energetic and curious twelve-year-old girl I met all those years ago at Jenny House. Violet was willful and kind, and I don't think I ever knew someone so optimistic and happy. She was so sure that things would find their own way in time and that life was a prescious gift, that not a fraction of a second was to be taken for granted. As the years passed I watched the years were on all of the other children at camp, eating away at their very souls, including Joshua and me. But Violet seemed immune to all of this, infact, at our worst, it was always Violet who saw us through. She who taught us how to hold on was letting go.

I can't remember when or why this turn came about, and it hurt to sort through all of memories of her trying to spot the change I could only catch in retrospect. When did she give up? I still don't know...

'I think you need to lie back down,' Joshua said catching me before I hit the floor.

'But—'

'She's not going anywhere, Hermione,' he sighed helping me up.

'I think it's a good idea for you aswell, Abigail,' Momma rose to her feet and took me from Joshua. 'You too, Joshua. You and your mother haven't had a night's sleep in days. Will can drive you two home. I promise I'll call if something changes.'

Dad looked from me to Momma, he seemed to be saying something to her. Some objection he didn't want Abigail and Joshua to hear. If she knew what he was trying to convey, she didn't care. She simply turned away from him and ushered me to bed.

All it took was one look at her face to see she was as tired as the rest of them, dark rings stood out from under her eyes, her normally olive skin paled to a bloodless colour, tears gathered like pools in her eyes that she refused to let brim over, she herself had become thin, and her bottom lip quivered. I could see the weight of her shoulders clearly in her posture. She was fighting her own exhaustion and the pain. I could see her sheer vulnerability she had tried so hard to hide for the entirety of my memory anyway. In an instant, I could see the flames burning in her eyes, the tales of her childhood and what it was like growing up in the streets of Belfast during the North Ireland and Irish Republic conflict, her advocacy of peace and gathering of like-minded people under a banner like Joan of Arc and her own struggles coping with the knowledge she would not die before her youngest child. And through all of it, she was unafraid. As my death approached I saw this woman, my mother, for who she was and the years of fear catching up to who, to me, had always been an embodiment of courage. I remembered who she was. I averted my gaze from this great woman ashamed I forgot.

'You look so tired, Momma,' I told her after a moment of painful silence.

'We all are, Hermione.' She tried to smile through the tears I could see welling in her eyes. 'But the important thing is, things will be okay in the end.'

I took her hand and smiled lightly and kissed her cheek. 'I know they'll be. Don't worry about me, I'm ready for this.'

'I'm not,' she confided biting back a sob. 'It's not natural for a child to die before her parent. I keep praying that the doctors are all wrong. Like they've been before, and I don't think I can accept this is it until you're finally—"She wrapped her arms around me like when I was a frightened child.

She finally allowed her eyes to brim over and I could hear her sobbing for the first time in years. I held her to me and soothed her back as I searched for words of comfort. I felt it was strange that I the dying child was to comfort the soon to be bereaved mother...but I felt it was right.

Yes, it was better this way. If I could give her some words of comfort, something to hold on to, maybe she'd be able to move on in her life, and let herself live the life I've always wished for her to live. At least that's what I remember thinking.

'I can finally lay down my burdens, Momma,' I whispered. 'I'll be at peace. I won't feel any more pain, my illness will be behind me. I'll be with God in heaven, watching over you.'

'I know, Hermione,' she stopped sobbing and looked me in the eye. 'All I want to do is protect you from all this. You're so young, I dreamed you'd've gotten to do more with your life. That you would be given time to know what it's like to live fully.'

'I already have, Momma,' I smiled. 'Because of you and all who loved me I have lived the fullest life one could imagine. I can die at peace and I'll be with God in heaven where nothing can hurt me. A wise woman once told me that to love another person is the only way to live a full and happy life and find the light of god. That was you.'

'Hermione, I'll miss you so much.'

'Don't worry. I know everything will be alright. I love you.'

Momma wiped her eyes and started to tuck me in, like she did when I was a small child, taking some solace in the action that I was only acutely aware of. She kissed my forehead and sat at the side of my bed. She looked at me expectantly, on edge, soothed by my words but still frightened.

The room, despite it being a summer afternoon began to dim and I felt heat seeping away from my body. I didn't feel any pain, but a calm washed over me, my eyelids grew heavier and for the first time I felt relaxed. I was sure, and not for the last time, that I was dying.

'Take my hand,' I asked. 'Tell everyone I love them and I will see them in good time.'

She took my hand and I let sleep take me. I don't remember a dream, I don't remember feeling like I was waking. The next thing I knew I had waken and Momma was beside me, fast asleep with tears staining her cheeks. Had she thought what I thought? Should I have waked her and apologize, or let her sleep away the pain? What was I to do? I thought for sure I felt death come for me...or was my mind beginning to fail as well as my heart?

I looked to Violet, who still slept peacefully. The drone of heavy machinery was the only noise in the dead room. I wondered how long she had. Violet couldn't have had too much longer, death would come for her, despite the frantic prayers screaming in my head.

I was saved from my thoughts when I saw Joshua enter the room, strangley put together after finally rest.

"Hey," Joshua smiled with two bouquet of daisies, daffodils and violets in his arms."How're my favourite girls?"

I tried not to cry when I looked over to Violet, her skin was much too pale, her bare hands were bony, her cheek bones under her closed violet eyes were too pronounced. A blue scarf covered her bald head, and she was bundled in pink blankets. The girl who once shared her insomnia slept all day.

"She's so tired all the time. The pain medication makes her loopy, and when she speaks she only talks about the past. I'm afraid she isn't too lucid." Tears began to fall as I turned to face him. "Oh, Joshua! I just wish—"

I was cut off with a passionate kiss, I felt his warmth as he embraced me. I was relieved his skin was warm, that his arms felt firm, no words could describe how grateful I was it was me in the hospital bed and not him. Though I wished I could trade places with Violet. Any fool could see she was dying.

He crawled into bed with me and held me tightly with a strength a man being treated for cancer normally wouldn't have. Remission looked likely and I endlessly prayed he would go into remission. I wished Violet would go into remission, but she was given a death sentence two days ago.

I ran a hand through his soft flaxen hair as she looked into his violet eyes, so filled with love. They were filled with tears making them sparkle, but through his tears his pale lips smiled. He wanted his sister better, but he was glad to have me.

"I don't want to hear you say you'd take her place, Hermione," he held me closer to him and set the flowers on a side table. "You're going to be fine if a heart comes through. I don't want to get better if I have to go on without you. I love you."

I wrapped my arms around him and tried in vain to keep from sobbing. "I love you, too.I don't know what I'd do if our positions were reversed. Lord knows I'm not that strong. If anything happened to you...if your tumour starts to grow again I'd—"

"Shhh,"he pressed a thin finger to my lips and moved his hand to dry her eyes. He smiled beautifully as he held me, he kissed me again softly. "We're both going to see the end of this summer. You'll part ways with me at the ferry terminal like you do every August, and we'll write novelesq letters to each other through out the year. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a hell of a lot better, and once your heart is replaced you will be too."

I wanted to tell him to give up on that and to hold hope for something more. To let it be, and be happy. I couldn't.

"I'm going to miss her..."I sighed recognizing the enevitable.

"I will too. She's my twin, Hermione," he turned to look at Violet. "We share a soul, she's quite literally my other half. We've never done anything apart. We're just like the Gemini twins. I will never be the same, and not a second will pass I won't miss her. But we'll see eachother through it." Whimsy twinkled in his violet eyes as a soft smile came upon his lips."I almost think she planned this. Us, I mean. Helping eachother cope. She always kept trying to push us together, even after we were as close as any friends could be. She knew we would always see eachother through this."

We sat a while in eachother's arms and basked in eachother's grief and love. Violet must have seen our separation, everyone saw it. Joshua and I both sank, drowning in the waters of denial, but after Violet was hospitalized and put on heroin, we had to face the music. Violet said she made peace with dying, but I wasn't as ready as Joshua was to let go. And Joshua was only ready because they had always prepared to be separated by this illness.

We stayed in their loving embrace as they cried together. I never before and hadn't since felt so warm and safe. Joshua was a fire in the dead February winter of my mind. No, he was a fragile flower whose seed was planted beneath the deep snow. He pushed through the tempest's litter and bloomed, the most beautiful and brightest flower ever to be seen. No winter could kill him. I would let the cancer take me before it'd take him away the way it was about to take his sister.

"Joshua? Hermione?" a weak, cracked voice piped from the bed at the other side of the room, barely audible.

"Violet!" we nearly cheered in unision. My heart skipped a beat, glad to see her awake.

Joshua helped me up and they walked over to Violet's bed. I used her IV as a cane so she wouldn't put too much wait on the recovering Joshua and was careful not to run over the oxygen tube. I looked at the fragile girl lying in her bed. I clasped her cold hand as I looked into her violet eyes. They were the only thing that still looked like her. Her lips were white, her fingers were dusky and her body was too thin and wiry. She was so cold all the time.

"I love you two," the chapped pale lips formed a smile that wasn't so alien to her. It was Violet's smile.

"We love you too, Vi," Joshua held our hands, his were the only giving off warmth. "How are you feeling?"

"I've never felt better," she joked, her violet eyes gleaming as she smiled. She turned her head weakly to me. "You take good care of my boy?"

"I could never take care of him as well as you do, but I promise I'll do whatever I can to come close," I damned my breaking voice betraying my breaking heart. "I love you both too much to let you down."

"Please don't cry for me, Hermione," she smiled and turned to her brother. "Same goes for you Joshua. I won't have my brother missing out on life because he's too busy grieving my death when he could be living. Enjoy your time together. We never know how much we have. And treat my bestfriend right. I know you two are perfect for eachother."

"No one will take better care of her." He promised.

Violet closed her eyes lightly and smiled with a peaceful continence. She looked like angel ready to receive her silver wings as her gripped on their hands weakened. Her breathing softened and a single tear rolled down her glowing cheek. She was glowing as the gold sun came shining through the window, creating a gold halo around her holy body. There was a sadness in her wise beauty, and a beauty in the sadness. She was fading away, but her love expanded like light from a beacon, illuminating the darkest corners and drawing us near. She touched our hearts and we touched hers. In all of the turmoil our illnesses gave them, we shared a great beauty that made it worth it.

I held Violet's hand and felt her life fading from her. She asked me to sing her a lullabye and to not let go of her hand. I kissed Violet's cold cheek and began to sing to her, she prayed the sound would cover the sound of her heart breaking.

The three of us basked in our shared love, holding on to one another as Violet Grey fell asleep for the last time."

Hermione now leaned against his shoulder and was once again regaining her composure. Her pain was so excrutiating it broke even the heart he once thought was turned to stone by Lily's death.

He sat in silence again, as he soothed her back. Severus Snape was indeed no stranger to pain, or to being certain that he was to die, and the guilt he felt when he was wrong. But there was so much he couldn't relate to. Her illness devasted her and those around her. She wanted to die and release them, he knew that. He could also tell she wanted death as a release for herself. She didn't need to say it.

"Two weeks later was the last time I spoke to Joshua. Everyone stood around my bed as I lied clutching my chest. My heart kept throbbing and wretching, my pain shot up and down my muscles, I could even feel my blood trying to get to my heart and failing. Every breath shook my lungs and I couldn't help but whimper under the intense pain normal bodily functions put me through.

Momma stood beside Dad, leaning her head on his shoulder as they both wept inconsolably. Phoebe had come over from Canada to say goodbye, she knelt by my bedside and wept in the safe circle of her arms, Abigail ran her fingers nervously through Phoebe's hair in a vain attempt to comfort her. Joshua sat in my bed, holding me in his arm embrace.

I wished for the words I said to Momma, I wished for sound to escape my mouth other than my sobs. I wished for so many things, but most of all for my fear to pass. I wondered if that's how Violet felt, fearful and in intense pain. I was so afraid to die. I thought I was ready.

I turned my thoughts to Joshua. His eyes had brimmed over and his flesh paled as the realization came over him. His arms were firm and strong around me. I remember his left arm shook as he tried to press me tightly against his chest. He was warm, safe and he smelled of spring flowers. I heard his heart beating, a sound I wanted to cling to forever, and with that my fear subsided if only a little. At least he would live.

'I love you all very much.' I said weakly and managed to smile for them.

'Hermione, you're going to live. Dear God, you'll live!' Joshua cried holding me closer to him.

'I'll be without pain,' I smiled. 'I can finally rest.'

'She's getting colder,' he cried. 'Page a doctor!'

'Don't you worry, Joshua. It's alright,' I sobbed. 'I don't feel any pain. Nothing can hurt me now. I'll rest at last in your arms. Just stay with me, and let it be. Everything's going to be fine. But for God's sake, ' I managed to raise my voice and turn to face him. With all my strength, I wrapped my arms around him. 'Please stay till I am sleeping.'

There was a pain more intense than any words could convey in his violet eyes. His bottom lip quivered as his hands lightly ran over my cheeks, wiping my tears. I returned the favour, feeling his tears like rain on my fingers. Fear touched my heart again as I felt the heat fading from his body. He paled and his entire body shook briefly.

I felt warmth for the first time in hours when I saw him smile through the tears and a his eyes gleamed with love once more. He was going to be able to let me go. He held me and began to comfort me, keeping me close. I knew that in death I would be able to do what I could never do in life. I would sleep in my fiancee's embrace for the first and last time.

'I'll stay with you, until you're sleeping,' he promised realizing what was happening.' If only you could live a hundred years with me. I love you.'

'Think of the stars,' I whispered. 'I'll be with you long passed my time. I will be with you forever, shining down upon you in your darkest hour.' Fear took over and I began to shake as I sobbed.

I clutched my chest as the intense pain was added to by a sharp stab. It was the deathroes I had been expecting. My heart wanted to keep beating after the tumour had decided it couldn't.

We cried together, in an embrace God himself couldn't break. We cried for the wedding day we'd never have, for the life together we had prayed for that we'd never see. We cried for the family we knew we would never have had in the first place, and for the family I was leaving behind. We cried for our separation. For him, for Violet, and for me.

My vision dimmed again and I, despite the warmest and kindest embrace, grew colder. I felt like ice as it got darker and I felt life trying to leave and clung to it despite the intense pain I felt trying to stay awake. I had so much more to say to him. So much to apologize for and so much to confess. I loved him and I didn't want to leave him.

'Hermione,' he said softly. 'I love you so much. I'm here, and I'll always be. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?'

'Just hold me close to you.' I smiled. 'As long you're here I can't feel any pain. So, don't you fret, Joshua. I'll be fine once I'm at rest. I'm no more than a breath away from you, and that's all the comfort I need.'

'Hermione, I wish I could take you home.' He cried kissing my forehead. 'I'm here right now. I'll always love you, I promise.'

'And I promise, no matter how far away from where you are, I'll always love you,' I now spoke through sobs as I clung to him. 'But it's alright, I'm already home.'

'Hermione,' he sobbed.

We gazed into eachother's eyes still terrified and mourning our goodbye. We would be parted for a life time, and despite all my preparation, I couldn't bear leaving. Even with my fading vision, I still took in every detail. His violet eyes gleaming,tthe dark circles gathered under them and the tears running down his milky cheeks, his lip quivering, his flaxen hair, soft beneath my finger tips, and his hot breath blowing in weak huffs on my face with each sob.

We were a mere breath away from eachother, and to say goodbye we closed the gap between our lips and kissed for the last time.

It was heart breakingly beautiful, soft and tender, even in all my grief I could find bliss in that perfect last kiss. Brief as it was, the action of our lips moving together seemed to tell him everything I was afraid to leave without saying. He loved me and I loved him. Everything else seemed to melt away.

Then everything went dark and cold.

I remember a warm light. I was walking toward it, for it was the only light and warmth. A serenity washed over me as I drew closer to the light and all my fear and confusion melted away without a moment's lingering. It beckoned me closer.

I now basked in the light, it's warmth washing over me and I was happy. It was bliss I hadn't known before or since. I was so close, I could touch it. I reached out my arm to touch the only warmth, the only light, and I was sucked away from it. I felt the force dragging me away from it, further and further until it was just a spec of light in the distance.

I tried clawing my way back to the light, but I couldn't. Fear gripped my heart and then it was taken by resignation. I took one last glimpse of that light, taking in its warmth, kindness and happiness knowing I'd never again feel so safe or warm.

The next thing I know, I'm watching doctors cut into my body to remove my heart and replace it with another. For hours I saw knives and scissors cut at my flesh and inside my chest. I saw them clamp blood vessels and cut them, I saw them carelessly take my heart and throw it in some basket as they pulled another from an icebox and o-so-carefully _sew it into the arteries and viens the old one was attached to!_

When that was finally done, I regained full consciousness and was able to actually carry on a conversation once I wasn't loopy from the endless array of drugs I was taking. The first thing my parents told me was that my operation was a success.

I asked where Joshua was and the room just fell silent. I felt my blood run cold as I saw the look in my mother's eyes. My surroundings blurred and there was a grey cast to everything and everything sounded as if I was three feet underwater while my parents hummed and hawed.

I was able to regain focus on my parents and hear clearly just long enough for them to tell me _ Joshua was dead!_

Believing I was dead, he gave up. His progress seemed to back track and eventually, his cancer just took him.

He died while I was in the operating room...I still don't know where from or how I got the heart when it seemed my fate was sealed.

Dammit! I was supposed to die, not him!"

Hermione clutched the picture of her beloved to his chest as she howled in her pain. She shouted incoherent sentences to the ceiling she stared at and rocked lightly back in forth. Gulping sobs racked her body, making her shake. Her cries disturbed him deeply and he tried to comfort her.

Severus couldn't soothe her, couldn't think of what to tell her. Hermione's grief was beyond even her eloquent words and the soothing of it was beyond his inflated language as well. He felt her pain, he knew what it was like to lose the one you love, but he still didn't know what to tell her.

When words failed to come to him, he simply pressed his lips against her temple and gently slipped the picture frame from her arms and placed it on the bedside table. He then laid her down and covered her. He sat at her side and ran his fingers affectionately through her hair as she wept.


	26. Morning After & Strange Dreams

**A/N:** _I put two chapters together because it made sense and this story has far to many. Keep up with the comments. Enjoy._

* * *

><p>Severus awoke with the light shining in through the uncurtained window. He tried to push back the pounding in his head by draping his arm over his eyes. Trying to sort out and remember the details of the previous night when he felt the weight of what could only be a fluffy bowling ball land on his chest knocking the wind from him. There was a damp, coarse lapping on his nose accompanied by a deep rumbling.<p>

He moved his arm to see Hermione's cat licking his nose. He purred contently and began to knead at his chest. The ginger behemoth stared at him with expectant amber eyes. He let out a meow and leaped off of him. He turned over to his side to ignore the furball.

Hermione knelt at the side of the bed, resting her chin on her clasped hands and her face, inches from his, didn't seem to be conveying any clue of what happened between them last night. She simply raised her eyebrows and said. "If you don't get up soon, I'll catch the ferry without you."

"Ferry?" he moaned sitting up.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes and took to her feet. The cat walked over to her and she nestled him, contented and purring against her chest. Both girl and cat gave him a lingering dejected look before she turned to go down stairs.

"Coffee and asprin," she sighed pointing to a place set on the table that only consisted of a giant mug and two long chalky pills. "After that you'll want to drink a bunch of water. IF you're still hungover in a couple hours we can stop by a dairy and get you some gatoraide."

"Thank you," he sat down, bewildered by her cursory attitude, and took the pills.

"Uh-huh," she sat down by her precious boy as he attacked the mountain of kibble she had given him. "Pace yourself, Crookshanks."

Crookshanks meowed and walked into her lap now that he'd had his fill. He purred contently as Hermione scratched behind his ears and whispered "Lady of Shalot" into his ear. Because cats just love Tennyson! He could never get behind the idea of treating an animal as though it were a child. There was a difference between being a responsible and affectionate pet owner and doting upon them. Hermione clearly crossed that line.

"When are we to catch the ferry?" he asked not remembering why they were taking a ferry or which fairy they were taking.

"In about an hour," she answered lifting Crookshanks, who squirmed like a tired baby refusing to be comforted to sleep. "I already brought the luggage down, so we can get out of here as soon as you're finished."

Severus threw back the remainder of his coffee and rose to his feet. "Don't you think you should put him in a carrier before we get on our way? Or have you forgotten that detail in your eagerness."

Hermione let out a snort of derision as she rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am just _so_ eager to be poked and prodded in every possible place!"

"What are you talking about, girl?" he asked no longer interested in pretending he knew what she was talking about.

"I have an appointment with Doctor Cavanaugh."

"Of course," he said as worries began to swirl through his mind. Could it be she was sick again? "Just to ensure you're fit to fly?"

"Something like that," she sighed ushering Crookshanks into his carrier.

She bent to pick up the carrier, but he heard a soft whimper as she grabbed her side and winced in pain.

"Hermione!" he held her up and pressed on where her hand was. She winced as he touched a spot where he could feel a break in her rib...

He now remembered everything.

_Does he honestly not remember?_ Hermione wondered as she pretended to be lost in a book on the ferry. She tried to decide whether she liked it better this way or not. The two had confessed to something that at the very least, she had been hiding for a long time.

How could she have told him everything? Why did she? Things would be so different if he remembered. It shouldn't matter to him, she told him she was still deeply in love with her dead fiancée, she couldn't imagine him wanting to be overshadowed by a dead man.

Snape had been acting strange since he found her broken rib. He used a bone-mending spell and had spent the entire trek from her childhood home to the terminal fussing over every movement she made while still managing to avoid eye-contact without fault. What was it he wanted from her? What did she want from him? Above all, what was going to happen now?

Hermione had been an expert at avoiding questions that disturbed her...but she couldn't distract herself from them anymore. But in all her great maturity, she at least knew how to point a finger. It was her heart transplant, she was certain!

Hermione's dreams were memories of a friend or lover of his. Snape had played the part of the childhood friend of the role she adapted in her dreams. She knew so much about this girl, her family life, her older brother who died in Veitnam, her older sister who deeply envied her for her ability to do magic, the loving parents who seemed to draw just a little too much attention to her being different, even if it was supportive, the boy she dated and wound up marrying, and a little boy who Hermione knew this girl never got to see grow up.

Hermione decided that this girl, whoever she was, was the reason Hermione felt the way she did. She was blameless for it, for the desire she was sure betrayed Joshua. It was this nameless girl who had been sharing her memories responsible for her feelings. Perhaps this girl never told him before her death, or never realized until she was on her deathbed that she was in love with him.

Hermione could string together as many theories as she wanted, but it didn't make her situation any easier. If he did forget, it must be for the best, and if he didn't, she had to admit that he was smart to pretend he did. If Hermione gave a damn about her own sanity she would to.

"We're supposed to get off now," he said breaking her from her stupor.

He stood before her, arms folded across his chest with an air of impatience that faded almost as soon as she perceived it. She saw his brow furrow and head cock to the side as her eyes met his for the first time since he fixed her rib. And they spoke volumes. He was anxious, he was scared and he was concerned. It was then, Hermione became painfully aware he remembered too.

Tearing her eyes away from him, she rose to her feet and grabbed Crookshanks's carrier. They walked onto solid ground in silence and made their way through the busy streets of Dublin to the hospital. Nearly a half hour they were silent when Snape decided to break the silence for whatever reason.

"I find it curious that you see a doctor in Dublin rather than the somewhere closer."

"My parents knew Dr. Cavanaugh from when my Nanna had breast cancer years before I was born," she explained with a sigh. "This way." She pointed.

Navigating the streets was a job in itself, teeming with buissnessmen on their way to cafes for their lunchbreaks and families out on the town with little ones who weren't quite school-age. Passing through the streets and lanes to get to their destination, they encountered corners filled with busker's that Hermione felt the need to give change to and a raving woman on a park bench that looked as though she hadn't bathed in days wrapped in a dingy coat and tuque that shouted profanities at passerbys.

She couldn't believe everything he did that night, everything she told him. He sat there patiently as she wept about the past. She cried unconsolably as he said nothing, he simply sat by her side and soothed her hair, rubbed his hand lightly across her cheek and held her hand. He didn't object when she turned away from him and curled into a fetal position, he instead let go of her hand and let her withdraw mentally with the exception of gripping her shoulder reassuringly when she needed anchorage the most. At one point during the long, long night, she felt him wrap his arms around her and lay at her side. When she woke up Hermione found herself, despite her extreme confusion, still safe within the circle of his arms.

Despite everything, the grief, the pain and just how overall lost she felt, she felt a connection. She knew he felt it too. The two were both just far too scared to recognize it. It would mean that everything between them would change, that they would have to own to everything they felt and live with the consequences. Niether of them were ready for that.

Even so, Hermione was still lead by the hand through the busy streets, and though she tried to distract herself from it, there was not a moment she did not feel his eyes upon her or the worry he was so poorly hiding.

When they finally arrived at their destination Hermione felt a new anxiety crashing down upon her. Hermione realized that she was not only going to be mercilessly examined by her doctor, not only having to endure examination and Snape seeing her at her most vulnerable, but also she would have to be stabbed by an onslaught of needles with as many taking substances from her body as there were injecting substances into her body. At the end of it all, Hermione would be tired nauseas, dizzy and too weak to stand on her own for at least a couple hours. Sitting in Doctor Cavanaugh's office, she nervously nibbled on a thick strand of hair as she silently anticipated the hell she would be put through.

Feeling the familiar hand pull the strand away more than seeing it Hermione looked at the man who the hand belonged to. She could see his eyes boring into hers, and there was a myriad of emotions found within them. There was a hint of guilt, a gratefulness she was okay, an anxious air, but also a sense of relief that he no longer had to hide, and above all a confusion that he could only blame her for, she knew that. Hermione recognized all of this because she felt it all as well. She loved him, right or wrong, and she hated herself for it. Not because of their past, not because of their age difference or because she was now one of those girls infatuated with her teacher, but because she felt as though she were betraying Joshua.

She turned her head in hopes he hadn't the chance to see it. She felt like a traitor just seeing him and wanted so desperately to hate him. She wasn't only going to betray her love if she let this go further, but she would condemn Snape to the same fate. Could she allow him to watch her die slowly and leave him as Joshua left her? Could she leave this world knowing there was still something left for her?

_This is why you wanted to cut the ties, you insipid girl!_ She cursed herself as she heard the doctor enter the room. Snape took his seat and let go of her hand, turning his all too attentive eyes to the middle-aged, portly, bespectacled man sitting before them.

Dr. Cavanaugh was old before his time, a man drained of any colour it might have had once been present, a blue vien was visible

"Hermione," he nodded to her taking off his glasses.

"Doctor," she replied feeling her throat tightening.

"I'm Doctor Cavanaugh," he said offering his hand to Snape.

"Severus," he said taking the hand with an uncharacteristic smile. Perhaps he was nervous? Damned if Hermione knew, everything she thought about the man was slowly being proved wrong over the course of a year.

"And you're an uncle, a friend...?"

"She's my charge," he explained, Hermione once again wondered who the hell had the ability to appoint her as his charge.

"I didn't know her parents had appointed her a keeper," he spoke with a hint of curiousity as he sat back down across from them.

"You're not the only one that wasn't aware," she muttered still bothered by being in his care.

"No one was interested in leaving the poor girl alone for the days she was still here," he explained, more directed at Hermione than the doctor. "It was the only way to ensure the girl was safe."

"Ah," he said with understanding, offering him a sympathetic glance, as if to say he knew how difficult his position was. "A lot of sick teenagers are so often trying to prove themselves, Hermione, as exceptional as i think she is, is not an exception."

Hermione rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan as she folded her arms across her chest. She bit her lip as she tried to let her anger pass. The good doctor had done nothing but try to help her for as long as she could remember, she owed him her grandmother's life, and hers. He saw people he connected with die daily, and the devastating aftermath. Hermione would not be surprised if the poor man often received death threats...that was enough to calm her anger.

This brought her to be more observant of her onocologist. He was a weary, thin and pale man, his glasses barely hid the dark circles under them and there was a palpable sorrow in his ice-coloured eyes. Despite all of the more than evident signs of a man worn to the very soul, there was still an air of hope, something in his eyes, face and posture, that despite that he was limp, lifeless, and bleached completely. He was completely driven by his cause, like a paladin of old, and it was heart breaking to see how the weight of the world crushed such a good man.

"Oh, doctor, when was the last time you've slept?" she asked placing her hand atop his.

His thin brittle lips offered her a crooked smile, and gripped her hand reassuringly as he raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't _I_ be asking _you_ that, deary?" he chuckled and threw her an expression that was both paternal and playful.

"I slept last night," she answered. _ Very little, but hey._

"And your medication, Hermione?"

"Taking it every morning and every night as you recommended," she smiled sitting up straight.

Snape shot her a look, questioning if not outright accusatory. She inhaled deeply as she anticipated his calling her out. Why was she lying anyway?

"And what about your chest pains? Have those gotten any worse?"

"Worse?" she gulped. "I wouldn't say that exactly..."

Both Dr. Cavanaugh and Snape shot an exasperated look her way. She had to question why she was avoiding his question. It wasn't relieving him, why did she bother?

_Because I'm afraid of what he'll tell me._

"Hermione?"

She looked at both of them with fear and sympathy clutching her heart. Both of these men have done so much for her, and only wanted to hear the truth about her health. But she didn't...

"But they are more frequent than they have been..." she admitted hanging her head in shame.

"When you say more frequent..."

"Nearly daily," she sucked in more breath and shifted uncomfortably. "Why is that, Doctor?"

Doctor Cavanaugh stood at his desk and walked over beside Hermione. She looked up at him when he placed a hand on her arm. "We'll just go through the tests we had scheduled and let you go. We'll contact you as soon as we get the results."

"Would it kill you to at least turn around?" Hermione asked, not looking the man behind her as she pulled off her jumper.

"I already have," Severus grumbled. "It still amazes me how even now you expect nothing but the worst of me."

"You've already proven you have little to no respect for my privacy." She hissed.

"Hermione," he sighed. "I—"

"Don't care. I know," she nearly growled.

That hurt him. Maybe she didn't remember as he thought, but even then, hadn't he proved he cared? Why was she being so distant? After last night he expected there to be no more hostility between them, but they both grew colder. He didn't know where to go from here, and neither did she. If she did remember, she was too afraid to acknowledge it.

"You're taking a while," he broke the silence.

"Just tying the back is all," she sighed. "Any chance your mother ever taught you the virtues of patience?"

"If she hadn't I'd hate to see what would have become of you."

He turned around to see her sitting on the end of thehosptial bed, fingers fumbling on the ties about her back. "Let me," he said taking the ties and noticing blue marks, precisely placed in neat rows in a square on her left. He gently touched his finger on the marks, trying to figure out what they were. "Anyone draw on you before you left?"

"They're birth marks!" she snapped throwing her hair in his way.

Rolling his eyes, he moved her hair out of his way and finished tying the ties of the hospital gown. "Don't lie to me, girl."

Silence came from her.

"If it bothers you, I won't ask."

Hermione stood after he finished tying the strands. "Thanks."

The nurse that might possibly have years on Dumbledore parted the curtains, was a very thin woman whose scrubs hung off of her, wispy white hair was tied back in a severe pony tail, a smile graced her tanned wrinkled faceand she stuck a claw-like hand out for shaking. "You're Hermione Granger?"

She nodded, subdued, backing up into Severus when moments before she couldn't be far enough away from him. He set his hands on her shoulders to soothe her when she moved away from him. "She's nervous."

"It's really not unexpected. Spinal taps are painful and—"

"Intrusive..." Hermione sighed. "And necessary. I'm sorry, ma'am, I was just-I had a rough night and to say the least I'm a little out of it."

"Ah, " she said sympathetically. "Are you on any sleeping medications? Or anything else lasting making you loopy?"

"Yeah," she snorted. "I'm loaded on opium."

"Hermione—" he began before realizing the nurse took no offense to her comment.

"So, how would you like this taken, Hermione?" the nurse asked as Hermione sat upon the table.

"Sitting up," she replied meekly, clutching the side of the table with a white-knuckled and shaking grip.

The nurse then picked up a long and cruel looking needle sharper than a serpant's fang. She winced at the sight of the large surringe in the nurse's hand. Severus surveyed the cruel instrument, the needle itself was longer than his fingers, and was exceptionally sharp. Hermione braced herself after taking in a deep breath and bit her lip tightly after squeezing her eyes shut.

"Is that necessary?" he asked the nurse poising the needle at Hermione's bared back.

"It's to ensure nothing's wrong with her CSF pressure or the production of her leucocytes and—"

"A yes or no would suffice!" he snapped.

The nurse narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, it is very necessary. Now, I'm sure you're concerned for her, but I do not do this for the pleasure of it. Maybe you could—"

"This girl—" he cut her off raising his voice slightly, but not so loud a passionless and indifferent voice couldn't be heard.

"Has had far too much blood taken for testing and would like this done before I faint," she groaned, eyes still fixed on the cold tile floor.

"Very well," he sighed with an eyeroll.

Seconds later he was watching Hermione's face contort in pain as the impossibly long needle had been plunged into her spine, water streamed from her tightly shut eyes as her long front teeth dug so deep into her bottom lip a line of crimson trailed down her chin.

It was painful to watch her as the nurse filled the surringe with the deep red liquid. He didn't think she would be in that much pain. He figured that she clamped down on her lip hard enough to bleed to distract her from the even more intense pain from the needle driving into spine and drawing the ever important liquid from it. Severus pitied her, that must have always been the mutual feeling exchanged between them, but he felt it more so even now. Hermione was so entirely small and fragile that he began to think it a miracle she'd've lived so long with her reckless behaviour. _Or blind, dumb luck! For God's sake, who the hell volunteers herself to the frontline of a war when she's got a terminal illness?She could have died from a mishap in class, let alone that night at the ministry! _ A sudden revelation came over him as he surveyed this girl, the woman he loved. They all stood a chance to die, and if they were successful they believed a better world would show for it. Hermione didn't care if she died for that world, none of them seemed to. But she'd would be the first to fall on her sword regardless, as she thought she had nothing to lose!

"I'm here," he said giving in as she let out a short cry in pain. He held her arms and tried to get he to look at him, perhaps as a distraction.

She looked directly into his eyes, he could read a trace of fear through the tears, but also hope. The nurse finally removed the needle from Hermione's spine and Hermione collapsed into Severus's open arms.

"You're alright..."

"I know." She breathed after a moment sitting up and offering an insincere smile.

"Don't pretend you're fine," he said helping her off the table, pleading. "I thought we were passed that..."

Hermione sighed as she ran a shaking hand through her bushy locks and sent him another look, this time pleading. Her knit brow and long teeth digging into her bottom lip created a suspenseful air around her. She looked hurt by his assumption, somehow offended. Severus remembered when she looked away feebly that he wouldn't reach that point. Nor would she ever reach that point with him. His position in the order meant no one ever would with him...And Joshua meant no one ever would with her again.

He sighed and pulled her into his embrace, and rested his chin on her shoulder after she had melted in his arms from exhaustion, both physical and emotional. "I know that can't happen." He whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry."

Severus stood with Hermione enfolded in his arms for a breif moment before he felt her body waver and go limp. This, of course, should have been expected after the comment she had made about so much blood being taken from her. She had been injected with a pain killer after an examination before she received a pain killer before the spinal tap, though it was a mild one, it still made her loopy after so much blood being withdrawn. He gently stooped to lay his hand behind her knees to pick her up and laid her on the table.

"Sir," the nurse asked returning to the room. "Is she-?"

"Unconscious I'm afraid." he answered as he brushed hair away from her face. "THe pain killers in combination with the amount of blood taken were just too much."

A squeak escaped from her bloodless chapped lips as her body weakly shook on the table. He took her ice-cold hand in his and examined the blue finger nails. He wondered how long it'd be before the girl woke.

"Do you think she'll be ready to meet with doctor Cavanaugh soon?" he asked the nurse who took to checking Hermione's pulse.

"Give her time, Mister, she'll be fine."

"How long will will she have?" he asked, as the words left his lips he felt the other meaning of that question nagging him. How long did she have? How much time? Was she cured? What if the results to the test were bad? What if her problems returned?

"She can rest until here she's ready to meet him, dear."

_"Hey, Fantine!" Severus cries with open arms._

_"The hell are you doing here!" Hermione laughs responding to the name "Fantine"._

_"Little bird told me you might be wanting company on the walk home."_

_That was when Hermione took in her surroundings at last. It was a muggle parking lot of all places and Severus looked as though he were about fourteen or so._

_Hermione was not Hermione at all. A glimpse of her reflection she was a girl, also about fourteen, with long red hair dressed in a nineteenth century pale green dress. "My father I assume?"_

_A smirked graced her friend's face as he began to walk beside her. "He couldn't make it, so naturally, he wanted someone with you on the walk home at night."_

_"Oh, my hero!" she giggled. "Did you get a chance to see-"_

_"I'll tell when we're far away from the ticket sales people..."_

_Hermione jumped for joy and wrapped her arms around the teenaged Severus. "Thank-you, thank you!" she squealed._

_"And might I say," he said wriggling out of her embrace to look her in the eye. "Best damn Fantine, ever."_

_"You flatter me, Severus!" she laughed merily once more._

_Now her eyes scanned the parking lot for Phoebe. Her parents both managed to see the grand-opening, and tonight was the finale. Phoebe hadn't managed to come at all for the week they ran. She kept looking, her heart beating furiously for a sign of her sister._

_"Have you seen Tuney?" she asks Severus, her heart dropping._

_"I'm afraid not, Lily..." he said taking her in his arms once more as tears began to form in her arms. "And it's her loss! You played beautifully!"_

_The walked in silence down the pools of lamp light overlapping in orange pools on the sidewalk. Severus, his arm linked in hers, stopped. "Why the long face?"_

_"It's just-" she sighed as she looked for words. "I don't understand why she couldn't make it. It's not just tonight, she hasn't been down to see the play all week, and hasn't spoken to me all summer. Not since I got the part at least."_

_"Wasn't Petunia auditioning for the same role when you two were enrolled into the summer program?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow._

_"Yes," she admits to her best friend, hating what it reveals about her sister._

_"If you ask me," he begins and Hermione feels her blood begin to boil. "SHe's been jealous of you since you were little. She was jealous when you were smarter, she was jealous you turned out to be a witch, and she's jealous you got the part of Fantine when she wasn't cast at all. Petunia's petty and jealous, and you shouldn't give a damn aboutwhat a sore loser thinks."_

_Hermione feels her blood begin to boil as her body stiffens. He walks beside her, arm-in-arm, talking about her sister, who, despite her bitter coldness, she loves dearly as though she were nothing more than a pest who should be swatted without a second thought._

_"well, I don't think I did ask you." she hisses dropping his arm and striding foward quickly without so much as a look back._

_"God damn it- Lily!"_


	27. A witch's heart

Hermione awoke in the table with Severus's hand clasped tightly around hers.

"Up at last, I see."

"Yeah..." she looked around as she tried to shake the cobwebs.

Hermione searched her mind for anything that would have caused the dream other than her heart-transplant. Though she had a knack for convincing some of her lies (she thought fondly of fooling Umbridge), but she had never had an interest in theatre. Severus's involvement was obvious enough...but the arguement about her sister-no, not her sister, Fantine's sister...Tinnie.

No, it was Lily who Hermione lived through and her sister's name was 'Tuney"-odd, but with a name like "Hermione" she couldn't say much.

Who the hell was this Lily, and why the hell wouldn't she leave her alone. She thought back to a novel she read over the summer where a woman had a blood transplant and began to have memories from the donor (Thanks for the Memories, Cecilia Ahern). Was it possible at all that Lily was her donor?

She'd ask Dr. Cavanagh who her donor was. She had to, nothing would put her mind at ease until she found out who was giving her these dreams and why.

_They're probably just dreams, Hermione_! she scolded herself as she stood and took the arm he offered her. _You've recently read Les Mis, that could be why you dreamt the girl performed in the musical, you've been wondering who your donor was since you got the heart, so obviously you stick to the first donor you imagined. And as for Lily's freindship with Severus...obviously a scape goat for your own feelings...But still..._

"You're quiet," Severus mentioned as they entered the doctor's office.

Hermione acknowledged him with an "It's nothing" and realized that she had been lost in thought the entire walk, but she kept swimming through her anxious thoughts.

"How are you feeling,Hermione?" asked Doctor Cavanaugh as she sat down.

"I'm well," she said with her involuntary nervous smile."What news have you?"

"Well," he chuckled. "We just ran the tests, and you already know it will take us a while to get the results back to you. Good news is it'll all be ready for you in a week."

"A week?" Severus asked voice barbed.

"That's good," Hermione commented hoping it'd explain to someone more used to wizarding instant results. "It normally takes much longer."

"Improvements have been made since the summer." He then pulled out a tiny orange bottle of pills and handed it to Hermione. "Take two in the morning and the night before you go to bed. It's to reduce the pains you've been having."

"Thank you." she nodded.

"Will that be all, doctor?" Severus asked surveying Hermione as she wavered even as she was seated in her chair.

"Yes, that's just about everything, sir." Doctor Cavanuagh then raised an eyebrpw at Hermione and as though he'd read her mind he said: "That is, unless Hermione has any questions?"

"I-" she began, biting her lip. When she released it her voice began to tremble. "Can I ask-" she inhaled deeply and tears stung her eyes. WHat if he didn;t know? What if no one could answer? What if he knew but could never tell her? But the thing Hermione dreaded most was the answer. What if it wasn't the girl from her dreams?

"She must still be weak from the drugs," Severus rose from his chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and took her arm with his other hand. He lifted her from the chair. "I'll take her back to where we're staying and she can rest. Thank you doctor."

"Who's heart is beating in my chest?" she asked stopping at the door.

Doctor Cavanaugh stared at her blankly for a moment as though it was the first time he had been asked that. She knew it wasn't likely, but imagined questions like that so long after the fact always came as a surprise. Especially when where the serendipitous heart came from was a mystery, let alone who it belonged to before the doctors miraculously got it.

"You asked that this summer, Hermione," he said taking off his glasses to clean them. "Why don't you sit back down?"

The two sat opposite the doctor once more as he cleaned his glasses in search of an explanation he already gave. He put his glasses back on and looked at Hermione compassionately placing his hand lightly over hers. "But I might have some news for you."

Hermione involuntarily gasped and the heart in her chest dropped to her feet. Since her surgery she had wanted to know who the donor was, who she owed her very life to, and now she would finally be answered.

"We have a bit more information than we did the first time you asked us that question."

_Yes...and..._

"Though, sometimes donors prefer to remain anonymous. We often get requests directly on the harvest forms. "

Hermione felt her hopes dangle by the thinnest thread.

"We received no request for disclosure with this heart." He cut the string that her hopes dangled on with his sentence and Hermione bit back the tears she knew would come. "You see a few months ago an older gentleman came with a heart saying it became available after a bit of a legal mess. At first we were hesitant to use it as it was so old, but it was all we had. It seemed to have worked. So, naturally alot of the paper work is missing. We were lucky the man returned with what paperwork he had."

"So, you can't—" Hermione choked.

"If you hadn't permission from the donor then why the hell did you tell her?" Severus snarled.

"The donor might not have wanted you to know who they were, they might have." He began ignoring Snape. "They might not have cared. We now have the donor's identity if you want it, but I want to know you understand that you could be going directly against their wishes."

Hermione took in a deep breath then bit her lip in contemplation. Could she betray her saviour? Defy what very well could be what they wanted? But could she go on forever not knowing for sure who gave her a second chance at life? Who let her live when she was destined to die? No, she couldn't do that.

"I need to know, Doctor."

He smiled faintly and squeezed her trembling hand. "I had a feeling," he turned to his cabnet file and after a few seconds of looking he pulled out a file.

This was it. Everything she had waited for since her surgery. She would finally know, right or wrong about the dreams, who her donor was. She braced herself as she saw his lips part, knowing that the information to pass them would change everything.

"Her name was Lily Potter."


	28. Lily's Heart

Lily Potter...

Hermione's heart donor had been the deceased mother of her best friend, and a great woman who had served for the Order since her teenaged hood. Lily Potter, from what little Hermione knew of her, she didn't deserve that heart. It was another thing she gave without expecting anything in return.

But it was the other gift that had her mind reeling. Her donor was infact, someone with the first name Lily, red hair and went to school at Hogwarts. Her dreams were actually memories. But there were still so many questions unanswered...

She looked to the dumbfounded professor on her right. Severus's skin drained of what little colour it had and he sat with his mouth a gape, but only for a second.

His face soon hardened and he looked over to Hermione with eyes, once again, cold and analytical.

Hermione bit her lip as she questioned whether to ask... She'd sound crazy, she probably looked crazy staring into nothing. Doctor Cavanaugh was now staring at her with concern written across his face.

"Hermione?" he leaned forward to look at her with expectant eyes.

"Has anyone-er-after having a heart transplant," she took in a deep breath which rattled her weak lungs. She squinted her eyes shut tightly as though she were in pain and blurted at top speed "I've been having strange dreams since the transplant and I think they're her memories!" and burried her face in her hands.

"You must think I'm crazy!" she cried. "But it's-"

"Hermione," said Dr. Cavanaugh lifting her chin. "You're certainly not the first to ask that and won't be the last. People always seem to have strange dreams that involve them being someone else. Therapists always say it's a form of wishfulfillment. Some sort of desire to be connected with the person who saved their lives however indirectly."

"Indirectly?" Hermione squeaked. "Donors give up peices of themselves to complete strangers! They're certainly no less a hero than a doctor!"

"Hermione!" this time it was Severus to call out. "She's not well," he added to the doctor.

"Do you think it's possible that I actually have been seeing Lily Potter's memories?"

"No, Hermione," the doctor smiled gently. "It's impossible. Nothing short of magic could do that. I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed and bit her lip but Severus could see the gears turning in her head and he feared her questions. "I'm sorry to bother you with such a question."

Severus watched a nurse, a more pleasant one than the woman who conducted the spinal tap, remove a needle and tube from the inside Hermione's elbow. He saw the blue and purple spots begining to form on her pallid flesh. _So that's why you wouldn't tell me where your bruises were from._

"Do I need to bother telling you to come back in six months," she smiled and chuckled at her own joke.

Hermione rewarded her with a weak smile and laugh that was not only much weaker, but obviously faked. "Chemo. Six months. I think I got it."

"I know you're in remission, Hermione," sighed the young woman. "But it's best we continue with the Chemo for now."

"I know," she sighed dejected.

Hermione's face suddenly flushed green and she broke into a sweat as she winced in pain holding her stomach as though she had just been struck. "Are you alright?"

She answered him by falling off of the padded chair wretching into the rubbish can where the nurse disposed of the tubes and needles.

"I'll get you a bucket." the nurse said with urgency.

He turned his face away from Hermione as she wretched again and again into the bucket the nurse fetched. He pondered while he tried to ignore her.

Lily's heart had beat inside Hermione's chest for nearly a year now. He could never look at her the same again. How could he look at her and not see Lily's heart keeping her alive? It was hard enough speaking to her son when he was the last thing remaining of her. Or so he thought. An organ donor? How many people walked about with her organs ungrateful or grateful for her life saving gift? Did it matter.

Hermione was right when she ha said that Lily had been as much a hero as a doctor, but she was wrong about the context. It was nothing for one to give their organs once dead, but Lily had given up her life for her son and before then had lived her life for others. No words could describe how guilty he felt for their fall out, nor how grateful for her forgiveness years later.

He would always love Lily, he knew that and had been foolish to think he could move on. He cared for Hermione, deeply, but she wasn't her. Just as he wasn't Joshua, Hermione wasn't Lily. Ever since he found out about his feelings for Hermione he had been comparing her to LIly, which wasn't fair for either of them. Even dreams she'd seemed similar. The one where Lily had told him Hermione had her heart now sent chills down his spine. Had he somehow known before all this began? He couldn't recall and was more than happy to abandon the issue of dreams and memories. If Hermione actually shared memories with Lily it would blurr the lines even further.

"For the last time, it's impossible," Severus brushed Hermione off for what seemed to be the thousandth time.

"But doesn't it seem-" she began as she ushered the fat cat into his carrier once more.

"No, it doesn't!" he all but snapped as he watched the sun play across the rippling water in the golden twilight. He could barely make out the black sihlouettes of land and emerald roving hills on the other side of the river. The glare cast on the window was cruel, but why should his eyes have it easy when everything else was so confused. "You've heard what the doctors have said, it's just something that your mind is doing to cope with everything that's happened. Your dreams will pass and you'll scoff at the very idea that a recipient can have the memories of their donors like the rest of the goddamn world!"

"But-"

"Will you give it a rest?" he snapped finally having enough of her.

She stood before him eyebrows knit and eyes examening him concern clearly marked on her face as well as hurt. How could she look at him like that when Lily's heart beat within her chest? The only thing to bring him happiness through his childhood, and for the longest time, the only thing he'd ever loved.

Not that she knew that. Not that she ever would. Not that she even wanted her heart. He heard Hermione's story when she told it. She didn't want Lily's heart, or any when it came for her. By the time she was put in surgery she had made peace with dying. And was he not glad the girl was alive?

None of this was her fault, but it was so easy to blame her. No, no it wasn't, he was being petty because Lily's death left a poorly stitched would and Hermione's heart transplant re-opened the gaping wound tha he had never really let heal anyway.

"She was the mother of your best friends, and you want to feeel like you deserve his mother's heart, and are uncomfortable with knowing the son of your donor so intimatley. I understand that." He knew his voice sounded about as livley as an inferi as soon as the words left hismouth. He tried to fix that when he looked her in the eye. "You're going through a lot. You've been through the death of your fiancée, you're doing god knows what with Potter and Weasley, whatever mischeif you lot get into has to be stressful. You've had your heart removed and you're still dealing with the memories of when the anesthetic wore off, and you recently found out you indirectly knew your heart donor. You've just been through too much ad you're obviously confused."

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed and tilted her head slightly to the side and her mouth opened slightly to put a puzzle together at last. SHe walked toward the door, cat carrier in one hand and slinging a purple beaded bag over her shoulder.

He followed her out the door feeling the cool evening breeze from the mighty river hit his face. She turned to him expectantly, her large brown eyes demanding an answer even before her trembling white-pink lips broke into a faint whisper.

"You knew her."

"Yes," he nodded looking away from her. "Many did. Lily Potter, or I guess, Evans then, was in my year. As you already know you get to know others in your year more or less."

He carried on closer to the bank without looking back at Hermione. She followed him down rather silently until from behind him he heard "BUt you were more than classmates, weren't you?" as she caught up to him beanth a vast tree at the river's green bank.

His eyes fixed on the river, he refused to look at her. His mouth twisted as he tried to come p with an answer. He blinked back tears he could feel forming at the thought. He was tired of lying, but he had to. "No." he swallowed.

"How could you say that?" she squeaked

"Sorry to disappoint."

"You two grew up together!" she backed away from him and stared at him as she ranted. "You played together as children, you were the one to tell her she was a witch, you listened to all her problems, you two were thick as thieves, even after arguing about her petetition to pull England out of the war in Korea and calling her sister 'just a muggle'! For god's sake, you snuck into a packed theatre just to see her play Fantine in a summer camp program!"

It was his turn to stare in disbelief. He never even told Dumbledore about the petition or play, or even the arguments about her jealous sister. Hermione stood there, angry and confused, shaking as her large brown eyes demanded an answer that he didn't know he could give. "H-how did you know that?"

"Because of my dreams," she said as her eyes brimmed over and her anger subsided to a desperation that hurt him deeply. "Ever since the transplant I've been having these dreams, about Lily. Please, you don't have to tell me everything. I-I just need to know I'm not crazy."

"You're not."He sighed and looked at Hermione as he played affectionatley with hair, brushing it out of her face then wiped the tears. He embraced her and gently rubbed her back a while.

While he held her he knew. Hermione and Lily had much in common, but even then, he didn't need to change how he viewed Hermione to see her as a separate person. He was already doing that. Though he could never truly move on from Lily, but he couldn't help but love Hermione.

After all, she had a good heart.

"Walk a bit with me," he said separating from her then offering his arm. "I hope it's not too late in Newfoundland because I have alot to tell you."


	29. The Prince's Secret

"Lily and I met when we were seven, her family had recently moved into the neighbourhood and she and her sister Petunia were playing on the swingset." Severus recalled as he walked along the shore with Hermione keeping pace on his arm.

He debated what to tell her and what to keep to himself, but what could he keep from her? If she never got the memory of his confession would she peice his feelings together? Even if she didn't, didn't he owe her complete honesty after

she bared herself completely telling him about Joshua?

No, he didn't. And after the fiasco last night he was better off not telling her he was in love with the woman whose heart now beats in her chest. It'd just confuse her more. At least that's what he'd tell himself to make him feel better.

"She was unknowingly casting magic and her sister didn't take well to it."

"Like it scared her?" Hermione asked looking up at him.

"Seemed to anger her more, but I suppose it could have. I imagine you've scared your own sister on occaision by doing the same."

Hermione lightly shook her head. "The only magic I ever really did without meaning to was when I was going through Chemo. I handled it much better than most girls my age, took me years to figure out that was it."

Severus looked at the girl beside him in surprise. Children often used magic without meaning to as a means to defend themselves or just as a result of a tantrum. His own childhood was full of these episodes, and so were many people's. Magic to those kids came as easy as walking. Watching Hermione now as she used his arm to steady herself, it seemed there were many things that would have came easy to others that she couldn't afford to take for granted.

"I interupted," she said growing uncomfortable. " on."

"No, you didn't. Don't appologize."

"Sorry"

"Will you ever learn to listen?" he sighed. "Anyway, Lily had been using magic and her sister didn't take well to it in the least. Ran home from the park quicker than I'd seen anything move today.

Lily sat on the ground with head in her hands as she wept. Clearly hurt by her sister's reaction to what she thought was harmless and fun, I went to see if she was alright." he laughed slightly at the memory. "And with all of the social graces of a seven year old,I walked straight up to her and told her she was a witch."

Hermione let out a tiny giggle that was quickly surpressed by a bit on her lip. She'd grow out of that habbit he was certain.

"I imagine you think you can see just how that worked out. Though she reacted much better than I had expected. She simply said that 'it was a very mean thing to say' and giggled.

I myself laughed and then explained what she did and how she did the only kids our age in the area at the time, we became instant friends. From that point on it seemed we were inseperable. Thick as theives as you so aptly described.

Then came the day we went to Hogwarts and I was no longer the only child her age. I can't begin to describe how anxious that made me. But my concerns seemed for not. Even though we were sorted into houses that feuded since God knows when, we were still friends.

We spent very much time together. We were both outcasts, she had been very much like you. Smart, to the point of being ostricized because of it. Though she managed to keep a scrap of modesty." he teased nudging her lightly.

Hermione smiled lightly as she rolled her eyes. "I blame my mother."

"Blame whoever you want. I hold you responsible."

He slowed his pace for Hermione's clumsy, drugged gait.

"She had become friends with James Potter's crew very quickly I found, but she never quite abandonned me even then. The poor girl got into so many arguements with her friends defending me. I never did understand how she ever got along with them. Even after his admittedly tragic death, I can't take back any of the things I've said about James Potter. He was very cruel man, and I credit awful circumstances alone for the fact his son has anything shred of decency."

"It's incredibly sad that that is the best thing you've said about Harry."

"I just think it would be very easy for him to fall into..." he sighed and looked to the river once more. "It doesn't need to sit down before you faint." he grumbled, voice icing over.

She complied silently, sitting in the shade of the tree on the bank.

"She was my best friend, for the longest time, I daresay, my only friend." he began trying to separate himself from his story. But how could he? It was the only thing to keep him going so long. He had done everything in the memory of Lily. Protected her son, risked his life daily and even made a promise to do the unthinkable. He turned back to see Hermione looking up at him with expectant eyes.

"We had a falling out when we were fifteen. It was over the most stupid-you know what fifteen-year-olds were like."

SHe kept looking at him as though she expected more. She did. Of course she knew what fifteen-year-old were like because she was one last year! Severus felt like an idiot. But how would he explain what he said? Would it offend her?Would she be more upset with him?

_She'll at best put up with you until you return to Hogwarts and she'll treat you as though you don't exist. Which may be bettter than I deserve. He shook his head as he sat in the grass beside her. (I) give her the benefit of the doubt._

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said about shifting slightly to give him space.

"Do you believe people can change?"

"Of course," she said touching his arm lightly with the faintest smile. "People can always change."

He lightly touched her face grateful for that belief. "I'm glad to hear that. Because my falling out with her was very much because of something I am deeply ashamed of."

He looked into her brown eyes feeling them probe at him. Hermione lightly touched the hand he rested on her cheek. All she seemed to offer was support rather than the contempt he expected her to offer. She opened her mouth slightly and then bit her lip as though she changed her mind.

"I want to hear whatever it is you were you about to say."

There was a silence as the crickets began to make their music as the sun sank into the water and a light breeze blew across the water blowing Hermione's hair into her face and the magenta sky. Gold rimmed the contemplating girl like a halo as she played with the daisy growing between the trees twisted roots. He was reminded of Lily once more.

Lily was aptly named for a girl who loved gardening so much, in their childhood they often groomed flower beds as they talked and every once in a while he would catch her replanting wild daisies and forget-me-nots between the roots of trees.

She would have reminded him of Lily even if her heart didn't beat in her chest. But it was as if Lily's ghost had now lived within Hermione. He knew he could separate the two, and knew that he dearly loved them both. But it still felt as though he were being split in two when he thought about it.

Hermione lightly played with the petals of the daisy and drew out a breath. Now even their sighs sounded the same.

"I overheard you explaining to Fudge threes years ago that you were once a death eater." she said making eye-contact at last. "If I didn't believe people could change I wouldn't be here with you right now. Nor would I have..."

"I should have figured you'd have found out eventually," he sighed. "I suppose that will make this easier to explain...

I was on my way to a class, crossing one of the main court yards when I was intercepted by James Potter and his lot. We exchanged some words and then he cast a spell on me, making foam bubble out from my throat. By the time I was struggling for even the smallest breath Lily had come to my rescue. I wasn't nearly as grateful as I should have been for her intervening. I suppose I'll always regret that. If I hadn't reacted the way I had I know things-" he choked slightly, thinking about how it could have been if not for one word. She never could have loved him as he did her, but she never would have cast him out. Though what if...he couldn't afford to think about it.

He certainly didn't spin as spell-binding a tale as Hermione, he thought briefly considering how to go about telling her all that happened. Though, they both had an eye for detail, he saw no use in commenting on the fact the day was sunny, or that there was a cruel ring to the laughter, or that Lily's lips trembled at the sound of the word 'Mudblood'. It wasn't for lack of importance, but walking through every single detail aloud would hurt him more then the release would help him. Hermione only needed to know the events that happened. That was all he owed her, and he felt Lily would show her more if it was important she know each painful detail.

"One thing I'm willing to say Potter picked up from his mother was the righteous anger, that in his case is so often misplaced. When she saw what was happening, she broke through the cackling crowd that gathered and began to yell at James. Cocky bastard didn't really react as he should have. She could have very easily given him hell. Though she had always been above such things, perhaps he knew that. I believe so at least. He merely laughed at her and told her that he would let up the hex if she would go on a date with him," he felt his voice renew with an icy anger that flowed through his veins.

Severus expected Hermione to look at him in disbelief, but she looked infinitley more sympathetic than when he had began to tell her. If thing's were different he would deserve her he hadn't been a Death Eater for so many years. How could she look at him like that when she knew what he had done?

_Because she believes people can change and that I can be redeemed._

"She spat at him and called him a pig, among other things. Said she would have nothing to do with someone so cruel, arrogant and self centered. Just as she was about to storm off he canceled the spell. She knelt beside me, I remember her face softening almost completely and anger was quickly replaced by concern. She asked if I was okay. Too ashamed to have been saved by a girl who's claim to fame was that she was a nerd, I lashed out at her. I told her I could have gotten out of that mess and that I didn't need any help from a-" he trailed off and bit his tongue then took in a deep breath preparing himself for her reaction.

"You called her a mudblood, didn't you?" Hermione sighed after nearly two minutes of silence with more exasperation then genuine disapointment.

"Yes," he answered averting his gaze in shame.

A sigh tore through him, and he looked back to Hermione. She didn't seem angry at all, but there was an obvious dissapointment. "Look, just skip the part where you both storm off stubbornly. Tell me you appologized."

"Weeks later I worked up the courage to say sorry. She wouldn't hear any of it. I tried several times, finally I drew her out late at night and she would actually listen. I had a list of ready made excuses, 'it just slipped out', 'I didn't mean it', 'I was upset', any idiot can tell you none of those are an excuse. I was truly sorry, and still am, but she was too hurt. I'll spare you the details and tell you the conversation ended with her crying 'you can't wait to join him, can't you' and storming off. We never spoke again. I'm more than ashamed to say, that was the event that led me to becoming a Death Eater. Every horrible thing I'd ever done as a Death Eater was because I-There are no excuses, Hermione. She was my only friend, really, the only person who had ever stood beside me, ever gave a damn. I betrayed her and I should have proved her wrong. Instead it wasn't till I found out about the prophecy that I had tried to stop him. She died before I could make my amends."

Hermione stared at him a while. She now knew everything, almost. Her eyes were wide in surprise for a moment, surprised by everything. Her expression softened and she reached out to touch his hand, lacing her fingers between his. They looked into eachother's eyes a moment, Severus felt his heart skip a beat as he saw her eyes held no judgement.

"My dreams," Hermione spoke at that. "Aren't only memories. I also get brief insights into Lily's thoughts and feelings. I know if she knew, and I have a feeling she does, all you've done for our cause, for her son, she would have forgive you."

Severus was pleasantly surprised when Hermione let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him. He sat a moment in shock. After everything he explained, everything she knew he'd done, she hugged him. He didn't deserve it certainly, for this scared and sick girl to comfort him. But the comfort he felt in her arms, with her chin resting on his shoulder wasn't something he could turn away. He returned the embrace and was happy to keep the moment forever.

"You need to work on forgiving yourself now and stop waiting around for forgiveness you already have." she held him at arms legnth and looked at him with a soft face. "As far as I'm concerned you've already been redeemed. In both my eyes and Lily's."

Redemption. That was all he worked for. It was Lily who motivated him, who drove him all these years. But Hermione. Hermione embodied his redemption in so many ways. Her belief he could be repreived of all the wrong he'd done, the fact that he had fallen in love with another, and another muggle-born at that, along with her willingness to forgive him were all a chance for him to achieve that redemption. Hermione was his second chance.

He would not do anything to mar the clean slate she had given him.

"It's probably about five-o'clock in Newfoundland." Hermione said noting the now dark sky.

"Then we best be going." he nodded helping her to stand. He held her close to him and once she gave him the place they apparated.


	30. Phoebe

**A/N:** _Re-read the entire story and felt bad with some of the more or less pointless things that go nowhere. I have changed things a bit to fix the pacing and shorten the story, it's virtually all the same, this will make just as much sense without re-reading all those chapters._

* * *

><p>The alley way they apparated in had a thin sheet of snow on the ground. Severus breifly wondered if they were in the right place thinking it was awful late for snow. Though it was thin and far from fresh. St. Mary's Bay was along the north eastern coast of Newfoundland, he'd forgot that it got warmer later.<p>

Hermione wavered and nearly fell over, luckily he intercepted catching her before she hit the hard pavement. "Are you alright?"

"Mm-hmm," she groaned with a nod clutching her stomach.

"Do you need to-" he was going to ask if she needed to sit a moment, but instead she answered his questioning by breaking free from his arms and doing something else she needed to do.

"We want to walk down the street abit that way," she said after a couple minutes of wretching pointing as she gasped.

"Alright," he nodded to her and offered her his arm for support. "Lead the way."

Hermione led him down the street, brightly coloured houses flanked them making them visible in the dusky fog, snow lay forgotten among crevices in the pathed streets and alley ways. THe futher they came up the winding hill the stronger the smell of the Atlantic grew. Atop the hill was a large lilac building with unpainted wooden steps leading up to the black double doors. Hermione opened the door and led him.

They walked into a large lobby with hard wood floors and a winding staircase on the right. Largely unfurnised save a desk and the white paint was chipped and cracked.

"Phoebe and Mark live up in apartment five." she said looking at a crumpled and ripped directly. "Upstairs and first apartment on the left."

"I thought we were staying at your Grandmother's?"

"We're staying here a night first." Hermione explained as they walked up the stairs. "Everyone's to be at Nana's tomorrow."

"Is this it?" he asked pointed at the door with a clear number five in the centre of the door.

"Yeah," she nodded knocking on the door.

A moment later a young woman about his height answered the door. She was tall and slender with fair skin and a round face framed by long locks of blond hair and her eyes were a brilliant shade of green. She looked so different from Hermione, who was short,dark-eyed and haired, that he wondered if they had the right place.

"Hey, Phoebe!" Hermione almost sang as she wrapped her arms around her sister.

"Hermione!" the tall girl squealed happily returning the embrace. "It's been ages!"

Phoebe let go of Hermione and looked at Severus with a raised eyebrow. The quizzical face returned to its happy expression after blinking at him once. "You must be the professor." she offered him her hand. "I'm Pheobe. Why don't we come in instead of standing in the hall."

He followed the sisters in to the apartment, and Pheobe's relation to Hermione became more apparent as he walked into their living room and the coffee table infront of the worn blue couch the girls now sat on was absolutley covered in books. Open and closed books laid strewn across its surface, many of the closed ones had bookmarks fashioned from loose-leaf sticking out from them.

"Why don't you sit down?" she asked gesturing to a second couch pressed up against the wall adjacent to them.

The sisters started catching up, discussing their year speaking with all the enthusiasm of a three-year-old on a sugar high. They took turns giggling at their own hyper-speed speach. Just as he thought the two couldn't be too much at harder to understand they slipped into gaelic.

"Ó, mo Dhia! Really?" Hermione gasped in disbelief.

"Sea! Wow, Tá mé chomh ideal!" Phoebe groaned dramatically.

"Ní féidir liom a chreidiúint go ndearna tú!" Hermione laughed hitting her own head in her sister's stead.

"Ó, Tá brón orm, a dhuine uasail. Dearmad orainn." Hermione groaned turning to him looking appologetic.

"Sea, ollamh, bhí conas do turas síos?"Pheobe gestured with her hand to him and her voice raising as though she were asking a question.

"I have no clue what you girls are talking about," he ventured as a neglected Crookshanks hopped into his lap.

"Cac!"Hermione slapped her forehead then smiled at him apologetically. "Ta bron orm, a dhuine uasail!Bhí mé dearmad"

"Still speaking Gaelic, Hermione." Phoebe said casually.

"Sorry," she let out an uncomfortable laugh.

"It's alright." he couldn't but smile as she grew more flushed with embarassment. The faintest pink tickled both girl's cheeks and he raised an eyebrow at Hermione."I suppose you weren't lying when you said it's in my best interest to learn Gaelic?"

"It's a habbit we can definatley get out of." Hermione offered.

"Till then," Phoebe laughed just as uncomfortably. "Please feel free to say something. We'll be sure to change that immediatley."

"Thank you," he said. "Seven languages I speak and not a word of Gaelic. If I had known this would come up I might have looked at it back then."

Both sisters laughed and he felt the atmosphere relax. There was a click and in entered a young man with a child in his arms. Severus rose to shake his hand in unison with Hermione. He sat the little girl on Pheobe's lap and extended his hand. "I'm Mark."

Mark was a tall and lanky boy of identical stature to Weasley, is freckled face was under a mop of messy auburn hair that he managed by tying it behind him, and his eyes were a dull hazel.

"Severus," he took his hand feeling a lightness at being able to introduce himself by his first name. Since he grown to be an adult it seemed people called him 'Snape' more often then not.

"And you," he said turning to Hermione. "Must be my new little sister. Hermione is it?"

"Yes," she said holding out her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"No," he said with a large smile refusing her hand. "I want a hug."

Mark wrapped his arms around Hermione and she did the same, though much more lightly as she felt as though she'd suffocate. They released and Mark took a seat beside Severus as Hermione sat back down where she was.

Elizabeth let out a tiny sneeze and Hermione turned to see her niece. Pheobe put her in Hermione's bit her lip and tried to hold back her tears. This little girl in her lap was her neice.

Elizabeth looked so much like Pheobe, her round face was framed by yellow curling hair, her skin was fair and she already had a trace of pink on her cheeks that was permanent on Pheobe's face. The only difference from Elizabeth and a one-year-old Phoebe was her eyes. They were the exact shape and shared the impossibly long lashes Phoebe had, but her eyes were her father's hazel.

"Hi, Elizabeth," Hermione smiled pleasantly. "I'm your Aunt Hermione."

Elizabeth smiled widely revealing a gap-toothed smile and she played with Hermione's hair absent-mindedly. " 'I, Nee."

"She speaks!" Hermione cried delighted to her sister."You've neglected to mention that in your letters!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" she laughed.

"Well, congratulations, it was!" Hermione could hardly curb her excitement and wondered if Phoebe felt the same when Elizabeth first spoke. "Naíon beag, tá mé grá i bhfad ar do shon."

"We don't speak much Gaelic around the baby," Mark explained. "I don't know if she knew what you meant. But it is a sweet sentiment from what I could make out."

That was when Hermione noticed that his thick dialect had influence from Cape-Breton like her Nana. She laughed inwardly, glad she could understand a word he said. His accent was thick enough, she was happy he didn't use too much slang. They still spoke Gaelic in Cape Breton, a bit anyway.

"From what you can make out?" Severus sat a little straighter. "You don't speak Gaelic either?"

"It's actually my mother tongue. Well, Mom and Dad spoke English, French and Gaelic, so really all three are." Mark laughed. "But it's a tad different on this side of the water."

"Ah," he sat the fat cat on the ground so he could cross his legs.

Mark and Phoebe both threw their heads back in laughter, Hermione felt bad for the man.

"You poor man," Phoebe smiled at him sympathetically. "I'm sure you'll get along just fine though."

"Just you make sure one of these lovely ladies are around whenever you speak to their mom." Mark pointed to Phoebe and Hermione then leaned in close. "She'll just go off on a rant insulting yea if she thinks she can get away with it."

Severus let out a small laugh and looked to Hermione who was still crooning over her niece speaking softly to her as she yanked at Hermione's hair. "I'm used to that." he said raising an eyebrow at her.

Hermione looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "I blame my mother."

"Aye," laughed Mark handing Hermione a bottle for Elizabeth. "Your sister's often doing the same. I was terrified of the woman before I met her. Why don't you try feeding her?"

Hermione graciously took the bottle and Elizabeth eagerly grabbed it from her and began sucking on the nipple noisily. "Someone's hungry, huh?" She turned to Phoebe and opened her mouth.

"One is not too old for a bottle!" she groaned. "All I ever hear from Mark is 'She's gettin' awful big for a bottle, ain't she?' so for the love of God, Hermione, don't start!"

"Phoebe dearie, she said nothing."

Phoebe sighed and looked happily at her child who was feeding contently. "She likes you." Another sigh let out as she ran a hand through her long blond hair and looked at Hermione pleadingly with her large green eyes. "I'm sorry. Momma's just been awful! If I'm not doing this wrong with Elizabeth, I'm doing that wrong."

"You know Momma tends to be critical, and the circumstances under which you married isn't much to calm her nerves." Hermione explained now gently rocking the baby.

"It's no better than her!"

"Phoebe," Mark said moving closer to her and sitting beside her. "Calm down, dearie. Your mom will come around give her time."

The two whispered and kissed."We best be getting Elizabeth to bed."

"C-can I?" Hermione asked not tearing her gaze from Elizabeth, now yawning in her arms.

"Of course," Phoebe nodded and pointed down the hall. "The nursery's the room on the left."

"Thank you," she nodded craddling Elizabeth delicatley and then moving forward feeling the baby's tiny heart beat against hers.

"And, Hermione," she called "Be careful?"

Hermione smiled and nodded. "I'll be very careful."

Elizabeth must have been an angel. She looked so peaceful while she dreamt with a small smile on her round face. Hermione dug her knitted blanket from her bag and spread it over the child. Elizabeth wiggled into a comfortable position as Hermione straightened the blanket. She leaned over the edge of the crib and kissed her forehead. "You're going to be so loved. Your Momma worries alot, but worrying only comes naturally to her. She's so scared sometimes. I know that's my fault, I hope after I go away she'll know you can be strong and healthy. And your Nanna isn't as critical as we keep saying. She loves you too. I love you, Elizabeth." Hermione felt tears fill her eyes and she bit back a small sob as she realized she would never see her grow up, never see her for the person, or even the child she'll become. This was all she'd ever know. All she could do was pray her last memory of Elizabeth would be one where she was this happy and safe. "I'm sorry I'll never see you grow up, but, I'm already so proud of you. I love you, Elizabeth."

"Hermione?" whispered a small voice from behind her.

Behind her stood Phoebe green eyes welling with tears as she walked very slowly toward her. Her lip quivered slightly as she impulsively wrapped her in a hug. "I can't beleive I wasn't there."

"I'm glad you weren't for what it's worth." Hermione smiled looking at Phoebe with a new sadness washing over her. "It wasn't something I wanted anyone there for. I thought I was dying. No, I was dying. That's not how I wanted to be remembered. Not all."

"I'm just glad the heart came through," Phoebe examined Hermione as if taking her in for the first time. "I'd be lost without you."

Hermione bit her lip and threw her arms about Phoebe again as she sobbed. "I know, I'd be lost without you too. I love you, sis."

"And I love you more," she smiled then tapping her nose as she did when they were little. Hermione couldn't help but laugh, in turn making Phoebe laugh. "I missed you."

"So did I. You know," she began offering a smile wiping Phoebe's eyes. "I don't know how you handled Momma without me. She can be quite the nightmare."

The sisters shared a laugh for a moment before the dread caught up with them once more, and they embraced with a sigh. "Four years. I can hardly believe-" she gulped and shook her head lightly. "Will you be okay?"

"Dr. Cavanaugh said that medical advances are coming about nearly every day." Hermione lied with a forced smile. "Says chances are come fours years I'll have a normal life span if things keep going as they are."

Phoebe cast her a look that Hermione had been familiar with since their childhood. She didn't believe it, but to Hermione's surprise she just set a hand on her shoulder and smiled weakly. "Let's make the most of what we have now and pray that we can find something soon."

Hermione bit her lips once more as tears brimmed over and her voice cracked into a tiny sob. "Oh, Daisy!"

"Daffodil," she replied with a whisper.

* * *

><p>"Do you think they're all right?" Severus asked Mark as he opened a can of pop from the fridge.<p>

Mark simply shrugged as he sat down across from the table closing the three open textbooks that lay neglected before him and setting them in the centre of the table. "They haven't seen eachother in over a year, Severus. They'll be wanting sometime alone, y'know."

Severus drew out a sigh knowing it to be true. The girls would have precious little time together and Hermione worshipped the very ground her sister walked on. Severus briefly wondered how much about her illness Phoebe knew.

"All Phoebe ever talks about these past few weeks was finally seeing her sister again, y'know?" Mark looked over his shoulder to see if the pair could be found at the other end of the small hall. "She feels guilty about not being there for her when Joshua died or when she had the transplant. But Elizabeth was sick with the flu and in hospital." He shook his head sadly. "Have you ever seen a girl torn between her daughter and her sister? It's enough to break a heart of stone."

Severus remembered that the night Hermione told him about Joshua she had not once mentioned Phoebe. He felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about his thoughts as to why she wasn't there.

"Hopefully seeing Hermione now will ease her mind some. She's so afraid of her relapsing and not being there when it happens. She's reading more books than a medical student and every sneeze or cough from Elizabeth sends Phoebe into panic! She's barely eating, and her sleeping is restless. But these last few weeks she's been much better. For the first time she didn't protest when I took Elizabeth to an apointment, she's been sleeping and eating as she did when we first met. It's been refreshing."

"I imagine so," he said knowing how it felt to see the one he loved improve dramatically. The releif and unadulterated joy of seeing Hermione standing strong or with colour in her face was beyond words. But then there was the fear of her reverting back to how she was, nibbling at the back of his mind.

Hermione's condition was physical and completely unpredictable, whereas Phoebe's was a mental one imposed by her own guilt. He imagined that was just as, if not more, unpredictable, as anything that suggest her guilt would send her back into her depression.

"How is your daughter?" he asked wondering if somehow Elizabeth was born with the same illness...Hermione had been born with her tumor wasn't she?

"Elizabeth is perfect hitting all her marks completely on schedule!" he beamed proudly. "That flu this summer was a fright, but she bounced right back. I don't think I've seen a happier child. Or a healthier one."

"So, there's no worry of her getting ill?" he asked all of a sudden interested in the welfare of a child he had just met. "I know Hermione's illness wasn't exactly genetic, but is there not an increased risk for Elizabeth?"

"OH, no," he shook his head and spoke with confidence. "Phoebe and Hermione aren't related, Severus."

"What?" he sputtered feeling confusion mount.

"Phoebe was adopted when she was three-years-old."

"That accounts for why they look so different." he shook his head lightly. "I feared we called on the wrong place when Phoebe answered the door."

"Same impression as I had when I saw the picture of Phoebe and her sister she set on her bedstand."

The two shared a laugh as he caught Hermione and Phoebe walking toward the table together speaking quietly with smiles on their faces.

"Did we miss something, Mark?" Phoebe asked taking a chair beside him at the small round table.

"What on earth is so funny?" Hermione asked sitting in the remain chair by Severus.

Mark turned to Phoebe and smiled with raised eyebrows."Just realizing we had the exact same reaction the first time seeing the other sister."

"Oh?" Phoebe and Hermione asked in unision with a single raised eyebrow. Phoebe's had been directed at Mark's and Hermione's at Severus.

"Thought he'd had the wrong place when you answered the door." Mark laughed.

"Honestly," Hermione smirked with a raised eyebrow at him. "Even biological sisters can look dramatically different. Hell, even twins! And you have seen a picture of her with the rest of the family!"

"Laugh all you want, Hermione," Severus started leaning back into his chair. "Just remember that I know where you sleep."

"I have a stash of markers if you're interested?" Mark offered.

"Hey!" Phoebe cried slapping Mark on the back of his head lightly. "No permanent marker on my Maid of Honour!"

"Ow," He grumbled. "We're only doing the ceremony for your mother, we're already married."

"What?" Severus asked.

"Our momma's a peice of work," Hermione sighed. "But she means well."

"Even though she and Dad eloped. What a hypocrite!" Phoebe lamented. "When she was seventeen and had just been accepted into university for her undergrad in England she met our father. They dated all of three months before he purposed at a Hallowe'en party. Both were completely enibriated at the time and thought it was a grand idea to just go to a chapel that very night and sign some papers and get married."

"Nanna was furious when she found out she had a son-in-law she'd never even met," Hermione explained. "It took years for her to forgive Momma."

"I wouldn't call two years without speaking a total loss." Mark shrugged.

"You don't know how much can happen in two years." Hermione stated grimly looking over at her sister.

Mark looked down at his pop-can swashing the liquid inside watching how the liquid moved.

"I'm sorry." Hermione added quickly. "I didn't mean, I meant-"

"It's okay," Phoebe clasped a hand over Hermione's shaking one. "I know what you meant."

The sisters exchanged smiles and let the tension lingering in the air pass over them before either spoke again. Phoebe had taken up the task it seemed, and much like her sister, it was easy for her to pretend the moment never passed and continue where she left off.

"Nanna was the same," Phoebe smiled with an eyeroll. "She was sixteen when Grandad met her. A fisherman about thirty or so from Ireland. Our great grand parents were impressed when they ran off and crossed the Atlantic after eloping."

"You speak like it's such a scandal!" Hermione scoffed rolling her eyes.

"It's just it seems the women in this family are prone to hypocrisy!" Phoebe pouted laying her head on the table.

Mark shook Phoebe slightly by the shoulder prompting her to look him in the eye. He smiled softly at her and rested a hand on her cheek. "Your mom's just looking out for you. Just like your Nana was looking out for your mom. It has nothing to do with hypocrisy, just looking out for what's best for their daughters."

"Promise me you'll never let me be like that with Elizabeth!"

Mark chuckled softly pecking Phoebe's lips. "We'll see how you feel in eighteen years, deary."

"Or fifteen," she rolled her eyes. "I won't meddle, but my daughter won't be wed to a middle-aged man at sixteen."

Hermione and Mark both rolled their eyes at her comment. Severus imagined Elizabeth would pick up the habit before she was two.

Despite joining in the laughter at Phoebe's comment, he couldn't help but feel judged. He wondered if Phoebe knew what was going on between Hermione and him if she'd have let him into her home so easily. Would she ever forgive her sister? Did she actually care?

The lot of them chatted the night away, catching up between the sisters. Severus noted that Hermione didn't once touch upon any of the gloomier subjects that had happened in the past year. He wondered if she knew of her sister's feelings of guilt or if she just didn't want to spoil the moment.

Hermione and Phoebe left the nursery with an understanding that only sisters could form she was sure. They had cried their bit in eachother's arms and made their apologies along with unspoken fears they shared but not dared speak. Yes, Hermione and Phoebe had an understanding that Phoebe didn't ask question that made Hermione think on her illness and Hermione didn't give answers that were only sure to break her heart. They had become experts in pretending it wasn't there, enough to the point they at times wasn't only bliss, it was sanity.

Phoebe checked her watch hours later after seeing Mark yawn. "It's twoAM, we should probably call it," She got up and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Last thing I want to do is make any jetlag you have worse. You'll be bunking with me, daffodil."

"You girls aren't going to sleep," Mark sang as he began clearing the table. "You'll just sit in bed and chat and then be tired the entire time we go over preparations with your mom."

"I haven't seen my sister in over a year, Mark," Phoebe explained. "Let Momma complain."

Mark's hazel eyes widened to the point of nearly bulging and his mouth formed a perfect "o" as he stared at Phoebe. He then grasped her shoulders, Phoebe's eyes didn't show any surprise at all with this dramatic display, she merely rolled them with a crooked smile and moved her lips along with him as he said:

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

Hermione let out a huge laugh at this knowing how she and Phoebe both avoided criticsms from their mother as much as possible. Phoebe had been the perfect daughter so long because of her fear of letting her down, but now that she was a mother and a wife, their mother must have had a world of criticisms.

"I'll dig out some blankets and pillows for the couch," Mark rolled his own eyes.

As he was walking by Severus Hermione noticed his elbow him slightly and raise his eyebrows. "Her sister know everything too?"

"She only thinks she does."

* * *

><p>Hermione lay in bed beside Phoebe staring at the ceiling as she listened intently to Phoebe in the darkness. She couldn't help but think back to when they were children sharing the same bedroom. Hermione far too often had nightmares and after jolting upright in fear she would crawl into Phoebe's bed. Phoebe would hold her and talk until one of them had at last drifted off.<p>

"Hey, Hermione," Phoebe wriggled to sit up and tossed her long heavy braid off her shoulder.

"Yeah," she said also wriggling to sit up.

"Remember when we were little and visiting Aunt Colleen and were always shoved into the same bed?"

Hermione grinned thinking of the happier occaisions they shared a bed. "Yes! And you always rolled around and pushed me off the bed!"

"Did not!" Phoebe cried grabbing at her pillow and hitting Hermione with it. "You rolled yourself off you little demon!"

"Did too!" she giggled hitting Phoebe back with the other pillow. "And you were a blanket hog."

"I think that was you!"

Hermione took a pillow to the face once more before giving up. "We never intended to sleep then anyways."

"Too concerned about what it was grown-ups did so late when we weren't looking," Phoebe admitted. "Do you remember half of our crack-pot theories?"

Hermione tried to put on a serious voice but cracked up into a giggle regardless as she said : "I think it was completely reasonable to think they were secret agents."

"What on earth are have those girls been giggling about an hour?" Severus asked grumpily staring at the ceiling. "And how is Elizabeth still asleep with all that noise?"

"That girl could sleep through anything really. Best rested babe in the world I reckon."

"Lucky her."

"Too bad for us I guess we hadn't that luck." Mark chuckled with a sigh. "Phoebe's been talking about nothing else than Hermione. She misses her, y'know."

"Hermione felt the same way. Even when she's in school she's always going on about her. She admires her even though she casts a long shadow."

"She casts a long shadow?" Mark laughed sitting up. "Phoebe's a fine woman, and capable of many things, but if anyone is afraid of a long shadow, it'd be Phoebe."

Severus doubted that. Phoebe was nothing but perfect in her sister's eyes, even if her mother was probably far too critical for that. There was no way Phoebe wasn't aware of how Hermione felt for all their years. "Oh?"

"Phoebe's mom couldn't get pregnant. For years and years Siobhan and Will tried with no avail before they gave up and, in Phoebe's words not mine, 'settled for adopting'. They filled out papers and such, took them three years to get approved, it did. They came to a home expecting a baby and instead had a three-year-old girl waiting for them. They love Phoebe to bits and peices, I know they all do. But it wasn't a month later Siobhan found out she had actually been three months with child. I'll spare you the details on how she didn't know." Mark shook his head lightly. "They finally had the baby they tried so hard for. Siobhan and Will of course loved their daughters equally, but it's hard for an adopted child not to suspect they don't. Phoebe and Hermione both were bright, pleasant and inquisitive children. But Hermione was sick, Phoebe was healthy, they couldn't keep up with both children easily. Phoebe understood that all along, but it must have been hard. Then Hermione got her letter from Hogwarts saying she was a witch and her parents were beaming with pride. Phoebe at the time saw Hermione as the miracle child they thought they'd never have in more ways than one."

Severus now shook his head. "Hermione would trade her abilities in a moment if it would rid her of her illness. You seem to accept the fact witches and wizards exist pretty well. How did you take it when she told you-"

"Five sisters younger than me and I'm the only skwib in my family." he shrugged. "Honestly though, I feel worse that I'm the only boy."

Severus let out a laugh. "Six girls in one house? You and your father must be all out of sorts."

Mark shook his head with a weak smile on his face and sighed. "My father died when I was eight."

"I'm sorry." he averted his gaze and hoped he hadn't opened any wounds.

"It's alright. It was eleven years ago."

_And I'm still mourning a death from fifteen years ago_. "It must have been hard."

There was a silence that passed before Mark spoke again only to comment on the girls' still persistant laughter.

"The daffodil thing..." Severus ventured recalling Hermione's nickname. "Where does that come from?"

"Siobhan came up with the nick names when the girls were very little," he explained. "She had wanted a girl named 'Daisy' for her favourite flower, though they adopted. 'Daisy' quickly became an affectionate nickname for Phoebe after she played in the garden for the first time and dug up each and every one of Siobhan's daisies and trying to wear them. Hermione got the nickname 'Daffodil' for a bit of a gloomier reason. Daffodils represent hope and courage, and Siobhan started calling her that hoping it would somehow help her heal."

Severus shook his head lightly as he thought about how Hermione felt people only saw her for her illness."The poor girl."

There was another out burst of laughter from the bedroom that of course bothered him more than Elizabeth. "I swear," Mark started to get up from the couch with a grumble. "I'm going to be the one to start wailing if that doesn't stop!"

"I'd offer to charm you, but I have a feeling a sleeping spell would only work a little while."

"Come on," he grumbled getting off the couch.

"What are you doing, boy?" he asked getting up to follow Mark.

Hermione and Phoebe were beating eachother with pillows when Severus and Mark entered the room. Giggling incestantly, Phoebe grabbed Hermione and began to tickle her furiously. Hermione flailed and countered by throwing a pillow at her and soon the bed became a sea of blond and brown hair.

"Hey, Severus," Mark said looking at the girls who stopped at the sound of his voice.

Two pairs of eyes stared at them in the darkness. Hermione held the quilt up to her chin and looked away embarrassed only to look at the two in the door way again whereas Phoebe looked at the two with her hands on her hips and a crooked smile.

"What do you call a garden where your daisies and daffodils entagle?"

"A mishap?"

"Nope," he beamed. "A wrecked flower bed."

"Promise not to make that joke and I will do whatever you say."

"Phoebe," Hermione placed on hand on her hip and wagged a finger at her. "You don't negotiate with terrorists. WHat happened to you?"

"I married one."

Mark rolled his eyes and sat on the bed. "You do know if you want to handle Phoebe have to be one."

"I'll grant you that." Hermione agreed with an eyeroll.

Mark pointed at Hermione with his thumb. "You take yours and I'll take mine? Maybe then we can sleep."

"It's a plan." he sighed. "Let's go, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes turning the sheets and raising from the bed. "Of course seeing as apparently I'm yours."

"Enough of the cheek," Severus said leaning against the door frame. "I'm not nearly rested enough to put up with it."

Phoebe then leaned into Hermione's ear. "Or to come up with a decent retort."

"I hope Elizabeth inherits your sense of humour," Hermione sighed turning back to hug her. "Night, Daisy ."

"G'night, Daffodil."


	31. The Begining of Something Amazing

"What are you doing?" Severus asked looking over to the couch Hermione sat on as she wrote in the black book she intended to give her sister as a wedding gift.

Hermione wrote with a fancy, feeling her emotions pour onto the blank paper through her fountain pen. When she began this little book she remembered it being so hard, nearly impossible, to write what she wanted. Trying to remain positive when she knew she would be leaving her sister and everything else forever.

It wasn't like the novels or the movies. Hermione, though feeling ready, was terrified of dying, and would be until it happened. But she did feel better about it, as if she could help in the healing process before she left. Left? Before she died. She had to get used to that.

Writing her final note to her sister, Hermione felt a huge release, knowing that she said all she needed to. Phoebe and Elizabeth both would never doubt she loved them, and no one would need to feel guilty or hurt about any amends not made.

But what to do about Severus? She loved him, he loved her, and they were still running around in circles for many reasons. The main one being, did Hermione want to be involved with him, or anyone for that matter, when she was going to die? She didn't know and it killed her.

"Hermione?" Severus spoke again, eyes now fixed on the ceiling.

"I'm done," she said feeling rather satisfied with the entire work. She went to turn the lamp off. "I hope I didn't keep you up. You said you didn't mind the light being-"

"I didn't," he sighed and rolled over on to his side to look at her. His eyes scanned the room a moment and then looked back into hers, the corners of his mouth quirked into a slant in deep thought. "I've been thinking about last night. I meant what I said, Hermione."

Hermione hoped to put this off longer. She didn't know what she wanted, or what was best for him. Why did it have to be so complicated when it was obvious what they wanted? Hermione couldn't look into his eyes without feeling shivers running up and down her spine, at least most the time. It seemed so simple, but it never would be.

"I know," Hermione sighed walking over to him and sitting beside him, clasping her hands around his. "I meant what I said too."

The two gazed into eachothers eyes with their faces so close together that she felt his warm breath on her face raising the hairs on the back of her neck. In his eyes there was a wealth of feelings that could never be better expressed for all the words Hermione knew.

She knew he loved her and that he recognized the complications around their situation. That he wanted nothing more than the same thing she did. If only it were that simple...

As if he were reading her mind he touched her face lightly and gave her a half-hearted smile before kissing her forehead. "If only..."

"If only," she sighed.

"We do need to talk," he said now running his hands through her hair not averting his longing gaze. "To try and figure out what the hell we're going to do here."

"I suppose ignoring it got us nowhere,huh?" Hermione scoffed knowing the answer already.

"I never thought it would." He shrugged before folding his arms over his chest. "You live as long as I have and you begin to realize pretending your problems aren't there causes more problems than you think it solves."

Hermione groaned cupping her hands over her face feeling as though he was using this as yet another oppertunity to chastize her way of coping with her illness. Along with everything else...

If she knew she couldn't find the answer somewhere in her brain or in her books ignoring the problem at hand seemed simplest. But she hadn't run away from all her problems. She had been far in to deep with Harry and Ron to have done that. Wasn't she willing to die so that others could know peace? Or was it because she knew she was already dying that she wasn't afraid to give the cause her all?

"You can't hide everything, Hermione," he continued moving her hands away from her face. "Believe me, that is something I can probably relate to better than most."

Hermione sighed again and shook her head lightly before meeting his eyes once more. She knew he had so much from his youth to hide, even now, Hermione knew she never knew everything and never expected. It seemed he would still be hiding things now and she couldn't expect him to share. This made him a hypocrite, yes, but also, it made him the only person who she could believe actually knew what it was to wish to disapear and ignore entire peices of who you are.

To be cut off from pain and disapear always seemed to be what he wanted. Until now, he wanted them to figure this out, and she could see it in his eyes.

Hermione wished she could stop withdrawing, but she didn't know how.

Severus craned his neck forward to see the opening in the hallway, he then turned to Hermione. "Is there somewhere you can think for us to go?"

"There's a strip of beach along the bay where there are caves nobody frequents. Phoebe and I used to play there as children late at night. We were the only ones ever there." Hermione smiled wistfully remembering the late night escapes. There were only three of them, but she'd always cherish the memories.

"Where exactly are these caves?" he getting to his feet and helping her to stand.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and her mouth stretched at the corners with uncertainty. "It's about an hours walk just to-oh!" she slapped her forehead feeling embarassed.

"Will you stop that?" he hissed grabbing her wrist.

"Do I have any other life long habits you'd like to take up an issue with?" she sighed.

The two traded exasperated glances before Hermione felt the lip she'd take to bitting curl up into a weak smile. To her surprise Severus did the same, mouth forming a crooked smile that she so seldom seen. It was amazing that at the hieght of such a tense moment the two could find time to bicker like children or an old married couple. Apparently Severus found this as funny as she did where he was laughing with her.

"Alright," she said after their bout of shared laughter. She described the location to the best of her abilites and then leaned her head against his chest circling her arms about him. He returned the embrace and lingered a while before whispering in her ear. "Are you ready?"

"Of course."

There was a pop in the air and then they were gone.

The beach was quiet, only the crickets dared chirp with the echoing waves that crashed against the rocky coast in the moonless smell of the salty filled the clear and light air and Hermione's lungs as the soft, cool sand moved beneath her barefeet.

It was dark, but the stars reflecting off the water made it easy enough to see what was nearby.

Severus walked along the edge of the water arm-in-arm with Hermione, she wished he would say something, his silence disturbed her. She wished she could fully make out his expression, but it didn't look like a happy one, though it was plenty pensive.

Hermione kept her eyes on the swirling stars above for the moment anticipating what he might say. What did he want? And why wasn't she asking him? She let him stay silent.

Hermione, against her better judgement, lead him toward a cave that she had accidently discovered on one of her childhood escapes. She hadn't even told Phoebe, nor had she been all the way in it as it was an off shoot of one of the many main caves in the cove.

The cave was much lighter than she expected, much of the rock was uncovered by seaweed and had peices of crystal strewn through-out them which glinted in the starlight that came through a gaping whole in the cave ceiling. There was sand along the floor of the cave at parts that was relatively dry, the water didn't flood this cave when tide came in. She led him by the hand to the back of the cave and sat on a large flat rock looking up at him, praying he had time enough to think.

He sat beside her and with a wave of his wand cast a dim light on a nearby rock which reflected off the glinting quartz. He then took her hands looking her in the eye. "I want this to work..."

"Something we agree on, finally." Hermione offered him a half-smile. "We might be able to."

Severus bit his lip and shook his lightly. "And spend the rest of our lives dodging glances and meeting in secret? You have enough to worry about without being burdenned with more secrets and lies."

Hermione sighed feeling as though this were going nowhere, despite the palpable pain in his black eyes. She knew he wanted the same thing she did and that he was hurt by this. But still she wanted to say damn the circumstances and damn the judgements, they wanted to be together and that was all that would matter. It was right. "I don't care about that. Nobody needs to know and it doesn't matter to me if we have to act like nothing happened most of the time."

"I care about that, Hermione," Severus sighed and stood up, folded his arms over his chest andscanned the cave with his eyes. "You're sixteen! You can't be keeping so many secrets and hanging on the chance we're not caught? Forget judgement on the part of other students, if we were found out it would ruin your life from that point on! I won't have it!"

Hermione stood and walked toward him and raised her hands to clasp around the back of his neck. He looked down at her slightly confused, but that was short lived and there was a hint of desire, though he hesitated before folding his arms around her. Hermione rose to the balls of her feet and gently touched her lips to his.

He froze for a moment. It was the first time she made the first move and he was in no way prepared for it. But sure enough, his mouth moved with hers welcoming her gentle sucking and cautious tongue.

He returned the kiss just as tentively. The two separated and looked into eachother's eyes a lingering moment. Hermione felt the world around her stop and a pounding in her ears that nearly drowned out the sound of the ocean outside. She lowered herself slightly, pulling him down with her. Sitting on the rock once more, Hermione pressed her lips to Severus's.

Severus gathered her in his arms in laid her down staring deep into her eyes. The black eyes gleaming above her showed no sign of anger or indifference as they so often did, but instead she could see desire and love, along with a questioning unsettled look upon his face that was further revealed by the fact that his mouth hung slightly open.

Hermione kissed his mouth and ran her hands through his hair with an eagerness that couldn't be misinterpretted. She felt the world stand still once more. She was ready, she hadn't been with a man since...

She didn't need to think of that now. She separated her lips from his a moment and gazed lovingly into his eyes feeling a world of warmth and safety she had never known.

Severus kissed her back with a fervent passion, their tongues mingled breifly before he softly nibbled on her bottom lip. As he began to kiss down the legnth of her neck Hermione began to lift his shirt. Allowing her to remove it, he began to undress her as well.

Hermione felt all the weight of the world roll off of her as he laid her down and a rush of feelings wash over her as he slid into place with only a slight feeling of discomfort for a fraction of a second followed by mounting pleasure as he began to move.

Severus stopped, Hermione opened her eyes to see him staring at the long scar between her breasts. That damned scar would always serve as a reminder of her illness and what she could never get back. Hermione bit her lip as she tried to tame the thoughts that assaulted her mind. Nothing seemed to work and she only became all the more anxious as he traced the line lightly with his fingers.

She remembered the anger from her dream and how disgusted he was with her. (I)Nothing here is mine, it's not even yours! He didn't even need to say it in real life for it to torment her. She knew he was thinking it.

Hermione's mind began racing and refused to settle on a thought for more than a second. Was he disgusted with the very idea someone else had to die in order for her to live? Did that make her evil in his eyes? Did he somehow associate her lack of her own physical as lack of a heart to give him? Was he disgusted with the idea her body wasn't completely hers? How did he feel about the fact his best friends heart was beating inside her chest? Hermione involuntarily cringed at the idea.

Severus traced the line feeling as though he never really looked at it before. He noticed it, of course now of all times. Would he ever get over the fact Lily's heart beat inside her chest? And for that matter would Hermione?

He looked down at her wide brown eyes welling up with tears as she bit her lip, staring up at him, waiting for him to say or do something.

_Were you not making love to her just now? Do you have any clue what all this staring is doing to her? I'm glad any heart came through, but why did it have to be Lily's? _

Severus looked down at Hermione knowing what his pausing was doing to her. She worked so hard to hide her illness, and there he was, in the midst of everything, focusing on it._ Does it matter? She's alive, you fool! That's what matter_s.

He moved his hand to the side of her face and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I don't care who was born with it, so long it's beating."

It was a lie, but he'd have said anything to relieve the guilt she'd been feeling. Her concern should only have been the fact it meant she was alive.

Hermione's eyes brimmed over and she let out a small squeak as her trembling lips formed the faintest smile. Unlike most of her weak smiles, this one was sincere, he could see it in her eyes. She gingerly took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. When they parted she lifted her head to whisper tenderly into his ear"I love you, Severus."

"I love you too, Hermione."

Severus and Hermione sat on the rock after they redressed basking in the after glow. Hermione folded safely in the circle of his arms still grew colder and seemed to be distant, as though the cold and jetlag combine had finally caught up with her. Looking down at her, she smiled back up at him with blue lips.

"We should get you indoors," he said kissing her forehead before helping her to her feet.

"Severus?"

"Mmm?"

"Where do we go from here?"

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough." He said taking her hands. "But I have a feeling this is the begining of something amazing."


End file.
